A Second Chance
by michael1812
Summary: The Master, resurrected, hunted by Torchwood, Martha Jones and a world dealing with the consequences of TSOD, Post-LOTT. The Doctor haunts him. And the Master will realise the true purpose of the drums. A punishment. A conscience. A second chance.
1. Prologue

The forgotten planet was no longer forgotten, or gone.

It was real again. As real as the cold wind which was blowing in their faces.

The youngest of the two boys sitting on the large memorial stone could not help but touch the hollow letters of the carved words in the stone, stroking them with his skinny long fingers, as if he were reading them by touch.

They sat so casually on the stone it would seem disrespectful, but it was in fact quite the opposite, for these boys almost worshipped the wisdom of the stone's creator.

Rassilon.

As the youngest boy's mind slowly drifted away, the eldest boy noticed what he was doing and subtly nudged him in his back.

''Stop doing that.'' he spoke annoyed.

The other boy merely smiled.

''Why?'' he asked.

''It is annoying.'' the other replied.

More boys of their age lingered around the courtyard of stone, dressed in the same black robes all students were required to wear within the Academy's compound which they were never allowed to leave.

As the golden, orange sky above them darkened, transforming slowly into a beautiful night, the torches which stood in every corner of the courtyard were lit. It's small flames lit up the dark blue courtyard in a beautiful orange glow.

In that glow, everyone except for the two boys sitting on Rassilon's Memorial Stone, were able to see the tall figure gliding towards them, wearing his incredibly intimidating traditional red robes.

''Remove yourselves from the Memorial Stone at once.'' the figure spoke. His loud, articulated voice made the boys jump to the ground instinctively.

The boys were having trouble surpressing their laughter towards each other, but their fun would soon end as the Teacher approached them.

The two boys were the only ones out of twenty students standing in the courtyard who were wearing their robes so casually and loose.

Immediately the Teacher rectified this kind of disobediance, disrespect and laziness. As he finished, he pointed his large nose at the boys again as he gazed down from his high position, for he was much taller than the boys or any student, and raised his lip in an apparant smile.

''I should've known you two would always cause some kind of trouble...'' he spoke.

''You can rely on us, sir.'' the youngest boy spoke brightly, smiling defiantly, yet humbly at his Teacher.

As the Teacher examined the clever look in his eyes, he rubbed his hands together as a remedy for the cold.

''Time will tell if you will pass your exams tonight.'' he spoke.

The two boys started to smile when he spoke of 'time'.

''Have you studied hard for the exams of tonight?'' he asked the two boys.

The students surrounding them couldn't help but wonder what kind of wit they were going to display now.

''No, sir.'' the eldest boy spoke proudly, and honestly. ''We haven't studied at all.''

''Not today.'' the youngest boy said.

''Not yesterday.'' the eldest boy added.

''In fact, we haven't studied for weeks.'' the youngest boy finished witty.

The Teacher could not believe what he was hearing.

''And yet you two excell in every single exam of this semester?'' the Teacher asked. ''I doubt that.''

''We don't.'' the two boys said together.

''Call us arrogant...'' the eldest boy spoke.

''But I'd rather call us brilliant.'' the youngest boy said.

They smiled, and the Teacher couldn't help but smile as well.

* * *

The time for the exam drew nearer as the night grew darker. 

This was an important test, and the teachers of the Time Lord Academy made certain that every student realised this.

During and after the exam, many teachers were patrolling the corridors between tables like guards, keeping all 10,000 students in check, and keeping them from cheating.

Even the weather seemed to realise the importance of this day, for it started raining for the first time in years.

The rain could be heard pounding upon the city's glass dome in the distance, high above them. Far away the water fell upon the dark, red mountains, and its rumbling sound echoed through the valley.

But the frightening, beautiful noise did not reach inside the castle.

The two boys, who were on purposely separated from each other during the exam, were not distracted from their pages, and as the the loud bell of the main tower of the castle finally started roaring as metal touched metal, and the scratching of pens finally stopped, the two boys looked at each other and grinned.

''Too easy.'' the eldest boy whispered as they passed each other near the headmaster's desk. They did not see his disapproving gaze as they left the main hall and prepared for some deserved rest, which by now, their brilliant minds deserved and needed. Not to mention their hands and wrists which had to pen down letters, words and answers for many hours on end.

As they entered the dormitory, all students of their class started to question each other about questions and answers and possible and clear mistakes, and the two boys gazed into each other's eyes and shook their heads.

They would not participate in this foolishness. They would head upstairs to their beds and talk there.

They left the curtains of their beds open so that they could see each other, but ended up gazing at the ceiling instead.

The eldest boy kept on throwing a little red ball at the ceiling, challenging himself not to touch the ceiling, yet try to reach as close as possible.

This little game seemed like an automatic reflex as he kept on throwing the ball towards the wooden ceiling. His eyes kept on watching how the ball went up and down.

How the ball defied gravity and was sucked back down again, unable to resist the planet's grip any longer.

''What did you have on the ''how can you break the speed of light'' question?'' the youngest boy asked, interrupting the eldest boy's game.

''Are you going to be just like those stupid gits downstairs?'' the eldest boy spoke. ''If you are, then why don't you just as well join them?''

''Don't tell me I'm a git.'' the youngest boy said. ''You're a git! You're nervous, aren't you? Afraid you might fail this test?''

''No.'' the eldest boy spoke, only glancing once at his friend as his little game went on. ''I know I'm brilliant. I'm just pissed off that they aren't. They don't even realise I'm brilliant. Instead they treat us like we're stupid. They treat us all like children...''

His little ball violently touched the wooden ceiling.

''You're not exactly 100 years old, you know.'' the youngest boy spoke.

''Neither are you.'' the other boy replied. ''I'm older than you.''

''Mere months, that's all. Nothing to write home about.''

With a soft thud the ball touched the ceiling again, and the conversation grew silent.

Until suddenly the eldest boy sat upright in his bed and gazed at the other boy who was scratching his head of wild hair.

''Have you ever wondered who those people are on the outside?'' he said.

The other boy now sat upright as well, as he tried to remember when he last thought the exact same thing.

''I've seen them before.'' he continued. ''Kids. Just like us. Playing outside the Academy's gates. They weren't even wearing robes, just...just plain clothing!''

''I know!'' the other boy replied enthusiastically, excited that as always, they were thinking on the same level again.

''Who are they? Why are they outside the Academy? Aren't they permitted to enter?''

''Perhaps they are outcasts.'' the youngest boy spoke. ''Cast out of the Academy. Perhaps they broke one rule too many...''

''Perhaps they didn't pass the exams...'' the eldest boy spoke. ''Remember when that ugly boy suddenly disappeared from class after that test? We never saw him again!''

''Yeah. I remember.'' the youngest boy said. ''Wasn't he replaced by that other guy? That new guy?''

Suddenly the doors of their chamber were pounded upon, and only then did they realise how silent it was downstairs.

The heavy wooden doors of the room were slowly opened, and the two boys had to avert their eyes from the lantern the Teacher held in his hand.

''Come.'' he said.

Curious boys stood behind him in the doorway, peeking inside to see how they would react.

Excited, the two boys climbed out of their beds, still fully clothed in their black robes, but slightly disorientated as the blood started to drop into their feet again.

As they looked upon the mysterious face of the Teacher, they imagined many scenarios of what might lay ahead.

But just as their hopes and dreams and expectations were running wild, the Teacher, with but two words, crushed those feelings and anticipations as he gazed into the young boy's eyes.

''Not you.'' he said, and the youngest boy's world seemed to collapse.

''Why?'' he asked as his hand started shaking.

They were being separated.

''Why?'' he asked again. ''Did I fail my test? Did I answer a question wrong?''

But the Teacher would not say anything as the eldest boy slowly stepped towards him, accepting the old man's escorting hand.

''Was it the question about deadlock seals? Did I answer it wrong?''

''No.'' the Teacher finally said.

''Then why?'' the boy asked.

Why couldn't he come with him, to whatever destination which lay ahead?

But the answer soon came.

''You are too young.'' the Teacher spoke.

* * *

His eyes were dark. The expression on his face resembled that of a ghost. 

If glass could shatter in so many pieces that it would lay invisible, unseen on the cold floor, than that glass would perfectly resemble the young boy's mental state.

Fragile.

Pale.

Lost, but found.

A new fire began to burn in his eyes that night, as he lay silently on his bed, ignoring the little ball on his nightstand.

He wouldn't even sleep, for his mind was filled with thoughts, voices, music.

Drums.

And all the youngest boy could do was watch how his best friend had turned into a mindless zombie.

He was unable to sleep as well, although he was so tired he would practically die if he didn't close his eyes now.

But he didn't.

Hours he spent alone, locked inside his white, long curtains, voluntarily, lying alone on his bed, cursing the walls of this dreadful castle. Wishing he could join his brilliant friend to whatever secret chamber.

To whatever secret ceremony he'd heard whispers of ever since he set foot in the Time Lord Academy.

As he looked upon his changed friend, he could only imagine what mystery lied ahead for him to discover.

And he wished for time to speed up.

He wished for himself to age.

He wished never to be abandoned by his friend again.

Never to be alone again, like he had been for such a long time before.

And he finally closed his eyes.

Barefoot he walked through the castle's dark corridors, in his white pyjama, urged finally to follow in his friend's footsteps, no matter what the consequenses.

He had to know. He had to find out.

It had been days since his friend took the Teacher's hand and left the room and since then he had been changed somehow.

Differently. Dangerously.

He had grown violent and agressive. Arrogant and disrespectful.

What could have caused such a big change in attitude overnight?

What kind of dreams or nightmares could transform an innocent soul from one thing into another in one night's sleep?

He had to find out.

The castle's dark passage-ways were lit by torches on the wall.

The young boy did not know where to go, only to where his friend told him to go.

To the highest tower.

There the Teacher had taken him, but to go there in the middle of the night was dangerous.

The rules clearly stated it was forbidden to roam the castle at night, but that thought only made the boy hesitate once.

And that moment had passed long ago.

The boy expected to encounter a locked door sooner or later, but every door he laid his hand upon opened smoothly.

As he closed the big door behind him, he gazed up at the spiralling staircase going up into forever, and the boy prepared for a long and hard journey into the dark, endless, tower.

His feet grew weary, yet his dedication only wavered once as his eyes turned inward, questioning his motives of why he so eagerly wanted to reach that tower.

Only once.

After a million steps into the dark staircase which spiralled upwards, the boy finally reached the final door.

The door seemed ancient. Like two blocks of ancient compressed sand were pushed against each other.

The boy now seriously considered turning back as he aimed the light of his torch at the unpenetrable wall.

But then the light of his torch reflected back on something. A small drawing or carving of silver in the ancient door: a series of circles in a swirling motion, resembling smoke.

The boy couldn't help but approach the green reflection, aching to touch the carvings with his own hands, unaware that this would set in motion the door's mechanics and open up the door.

With a monstrous noise, the doors seemed to be slowly dragged over the dusty, sandy floor, revealing nothing but darkness in the mysterious chamber ahead.

The boy feared the noise must've awoken everyone in the castle, but after a short silence, he continued. He gazed into the darkness, hesitating to step inside.

He used to fear the darkness, he remembered. But not anymore.

He stepped inside. His bare feet touched the cold, wooden floor.

He saw nothing but darkness inside, and again fear clutched his insides. What would he find in this ominous, dark place? Would he find the answers he was seeking?

Why had it been so easily accessable? Why did he not encounter any locked doors?

Should he be fearing this darkness? Would some unknown death soon take him to depths unknown?

''Hello?'' he asked the darkness and his voice echoed into the distance.

The torches in the chamber were suddenly lit, revealing the boundaries and walls of the round chamber.

The darkness was still everywhere.

The boy aimed his torch in front of him, waving it around until he finally saw something.

Nothing.

That is what he saw. Nothing.

A hole of nothing, standing in the centre of the chamber.

It was pitch black, and as the boy approached, he was beginning to feel uneasy.

It grew colder and cold drops of sweat made his hair begin to stick to his forehead.

And the boy realised this had to be a portal of some kind.

Something of great importance. Something spectacular.

And it was.

As the portal opened in front of his eyes, and the temperature started rising, the torches on the walls started to dance and burn stronger and brighter than ever before.

The Untempered Schizm they called it.

A gap in the fabric of reality where one could look directly into the vortex.

The young boy gazed down into the endless vortex, feeling a warm wind blowing in his face as shivers went down his spine. He could sense its power.

And as he gazed into the vortex, the vortex gazed into him. Into his very soul.

And suddenly the boy felt tiny, puny, vulnerable, watched and wrong.

The vortex strengthened the emotions inside of him, blowing everything out of proportion.

The blue portal frightened him, and as the terrible cold spread across his spine, he could only think of one word, which every cell in his body acknowledged as the only right thing to do.

''Run.''


	2. The Woman with the Red Scarf

It was dusk and the wind was cold.

Trees with orange and red, dying leaves still attached to its branches, stood on either side of the street, and they were shedding their leafy furs, letting the leaves be carried away by the wind.

The leaves coloured the grey streets in a mood only known as autumn, the time of passing and endings.

Swift sounds of the heels of elegant red shoes were tapping endlessly through the street as a woman crossed the road.

Her red scarf was bound tightly around her neck, yet the long woollen scarf was dancing along her even longer blonde hair in the wind, dancing to some unknown rhythm.

Her eyes seemed like ice, freezingly cold and arrogant to the world around her, yet she never looked up from the ground, and therefore she appeared humbling.

She passed a dirty man wearing dirty clothes, with long, pale, grey hair sticking out of his cap and a similar grey beard on his face.

Although she didn't seem to acknowledge his presence, she still moved around him in a suspiciously large circle.

The tramp glanced over his shoulder as she passed, wondering why she was so desperately clenching her cold hands together, as if hiding some unknown, valuable and fragile, small object...

The woman wearing the red scarf walked past several cafes and cozy restaurants as she approached her destination.

The trap had been set. The final stages of this plan she had devised and concocted a long time ago had arrived.

Finally putting everything in motion, and seeing everything go so smoothly, felt really good.

So good she couldn't help but smile as she felt the heartbeat within her hands.

It was almost like the beloved object she held in her hands shared her enthusiasm and knew what was about to happen.

Like a thirsty man trapped in a desert, welcoming the sound of thunder in the skies.

The first signs of rain.

The woman kept on walking until she reached a large square. She was surrounded by tall buildings, but she never even gazed once upon the large Millenium Centre beside her.

She merely walked towards the beautiful, artificial waterfall which stood at the centre of the square.

She could feel the object within her hands glow as it began feeding on the energy of the Rift below.

* * *

''Status.'' Captain Jack Harkness spoke into his headset.

He gazed at Owen who was fiercely holding on to the SUV's steering-wheel, ignoring his glare.

''Alien sightings were reported following an explosion in an abandoned warehouse near the docks.'' Toshiko replied, sitting in the Torchwood headquarters on her computer, together with Ianto who stood behind her with a cup of coffee in his hands.

Hers stood untouched on the table still, as she was too busy to drink it.

''They were described as bi-peds with triangular-shaped heads.'' she spoke into her headset. ''

''One man said they looked like foxes.'' Ianto spoke, as he was reading the words on her computer-screen over her shoulder.

The large, black SUV raced through the streets of Cardiff towards their desired co-ordinates at the docks.

''Hedurai.'' Jack spoke, without a hint of doubt or uncertainty in his voice. ''They're Hedurai.''

Owen pretended not to be disgusted by that tone of Jack's voice as he glanced in his rear-view mirror, only catching a glimpse of Gwen, who sat behind Jack, looking straight at him, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

They passed several streets until Jack pointed at a large warehouse near the water. The roof was entirely black and burnt, and ash was scattered everywhere on the ground around the building.

''We're here.'' Jack spoke as he slammed the door of the SUV shut behind him.

He buttoned up his beloved, old, jacket as a remedy for the cold as he analyzed his surroundings.

Gwen and Owen approached the police-constables who had sealed the burnt warehouse off.

They only had to mention the word 'Torchwood' once before they were allowed to enter.

Jack leaned with his left hand on the hood of the car and gazed at the grey sky.

''Something doesn't feel right.'' he spoke ominously.

At the base, Ianto took another sip of his coffee.

* * *

A happy, smiling couple walked past the woman with the red scarf, reminding her of the things she missed most.

Her hands were tingling as the heat increased inside her clenched hands.

The cold wind of autumn blowing in her face seemed no longer to affect her with its freezing touch.

Warmth spread through her entire body like a blissfull happiness, and her heart started racing in excitement as she neared the centre of the square.

* * *

Jack slowly approached the warehouse, ignoring the eyes of the firemen and policemen who were gazing at him. He merely put his hands in his sides as he gazed up at the burnt warehouse and let his warm breath leave his mouth as smoke. He immediately turned around as he heard Toshiko's voice in his ears.

''Something's wrong.'' she spoke.

Jack could hear her fingers type manically on the keyboard of her computer. In the background an alarm was ringing.

''The Rift...the readings are off the chart!''

''Jack?!'' Ianto cried, grabbing Toshiko's shoulder gently, in a sign of support, letting her know she wasn't alone.

''We're on our way.'' Jack spoke and he signalled Gwen and Owen with a shrieking whistle, putting his fingers in his mouth. ''Let's go!'' he yelled.

''What now?'' Owen complained as he and Gwen were rushing back to the car.

''We were set up.'' Jack simply replied as they both sat down and closed the car's doors, just before Jack's foot crushed the pedal.

''The explosion was a diversion.'' Jack replied as he controlled the car's movements, dangerously turning the giant car around in one swift spin.

As the car's tires slipped across the gravel, smoke and dust were released in the air all around them.

''Would you be careful?!" Gwen cried as she held on tightly to her chair and at the same time tried to fasten her seatbelt.

''Someone wanted us to leave the base.'' Jack spoke, ignoring Gwen's words. ''Tosh?!''

''I've engaged all security-measures, making this place an impenetrable fortress.'' Toshiko replied. ''If someone's planning to attack us, they're in for a tough night.''

''Excellent.'' Jack spoke.

Not knowing what was going on and who was behind this manipulation, there could do nothing but prepare for the worst possible scenario's and possibillities.

As Jack raced through the streets of Cardiff, everything in the Torchwood base started to shiver and shake.

Tosh saved her coffee-cup from falling to the ground with swift reflexes and quick thinking.

''I've located the source of the anomaly.'' Ianto said, and the look on his face was haunting. ''It's right on top of us.''

* * *

The woman with the red scarf and the happy face had pictured this moment for months, and now she stood there, gazing down into her own hands at her lover's heritage. The one thing he had left her with.

A mission.

Today would be the day...

Today would mark his return...

''Put your hands in the air!'' Ianto yelled.

Ianto and Toshiko had surrounded the woman.

A bright white light seemed to glow within her clenched hands.

Both Ianto and Toshiko wore thick, bulky, black coats to protect them from the cold, and in their hands they held small pistols.

''Do it!'' Ianto yelled at the woman with the red scarf.

The ground seemed to shake, and although both Ianto and Toshiko had been trained for these kind of situations, the fear in their eyes was a certainty.

But in Lucy Saxon's eyes they did not detect the same. Only icy arrogance and a playful bravoure which challenged them to make a move.

''Do it now or we will shoot!'' Ianto spoke.

''Do it!'' Toshiko cried, supporting Ianto's words.

But Lucy merely smiled as she slowly raised her hands, still clenched together in a prayer-like stance, until she opened them.

And for a second, before a bright light blinded them, forcing them to reach for their eyes in a reflex, they could see a green ring laying solemnly in her pale hands.

''Ianto!?'' Jack cried over the frequency.

Both Ianto and Toshiko found themselves lying on the floor, recovering from an attack of light.

Lucy Saxon was gone.

How could she have escaped so quickly?

They got up and searched their surroundings with their eyes.

''She's not hiding on the stone.'' Toshiko said. ''I can't see her there.''

''No.'' Ianto said. ''She doesn't know about it... there she is!''

Ianto saw a red scarf vanish into a busy street.

''Get back inside, please!'' Ianto ordered Toshiko, wondering how she could have run that fast. Or had they been slow? Had she escaped using some strange trick with time?

''I'll...I'll get her.'' Ianto spoke, surprising himself with a bold decision.

Ianto swallowed as he quickened his pace and hid his gun in his pants.

If people saw him waving about with it, they would freak out and probably call the police.

No, Ianto didn't need any more disturbances. One more trick and they would lose her.

What was it that she carried in her hands?

What kind of powerful object can make the ground tremble and the Rift go mad?

Ianto was lucky to be a tall man.

He was able to look over the heads many people in the busy street and find the woman with the red scarf, running for her life on red, elegant heels.

* * *

As Toshiko returned to her station in the base, she immediately started to analyze the strange alien energy which emerged from Lucy Saxon's ring, but with no results yet.

At the same time Jack was racing through the streets, almost causing a mayhem as he forced people to move aside and quickly jump off the road before he had a chance to push them out of his way.

''You're driving too fast!'' Gwen said. ''You're going to get us killed!''

''No need to be alarmed.'' Jack said as he drove even faster. ''You're in very capable hands. At this point in time, I might as well be the best driver on the planet!''

''I'm analyzing the energy-signature of the anomaly, but I can't get any results.'' Toshiko said to Jack. ''I have no idea what it is.''

''Scan for the energy-signature in the city.'' Jack spoke. ''Tell me where it is. Tell me where she's going.''

Toshiko scanned for the strange readings in the city and surprisingly enough found not just one source, but two.

''There are two readings!'' Toshiko cried.

''Two?'' Jack asked.

''There's one not far from here.'' Toshiko answered. ''And there's another coming straight towards me at an incredible speed!''

''Tell me,'' Jack asked as he avoided hitting a schoolboy playing with a football in the street. ''have you compared the readings of the anomaly with the readings of the severed arm I used to keep at my station?''

''No.'' Toshiko said surprised, unaware that she was supposed to be doing that.

''Then compare them.'' Jack said.

Toshiko was clueless for at least a second as she stared at her screen, not knowing how to do that.

Until she remembered where she had kept that analysis on her computer and was able to compare the two findings.

''They match!'' Toshiko yelled.

''Great.'' Jack said. ''Just great. Well, at least we don't have to worry about the second reading.''

''Why's that, Jack?'' Toshiko asked.

'''Cause that would be me.'' Jack replied, cruising insanely fast through increasingly narrowing streets.

* * *

Ianto was determined not to lose his target.

He ran as fast as he could through the dark streets, avoiding bumping into people as he tried to keep an eye out for the mysterious woman.

She was just walking. She was not even running, and yet Ianto had trouble keeping up with her.

He had trouble finding ways through the crowd of people who kept him from running.

The farther Ianto went, the harder it got.

Until a large, black SUV forced everyone to move aside, and a helpful hand offered Ianto a comfortable place inside the car, so that he wouldn't have to run no more.

The sky had now completely turned black and the bright lights of the streetlights prevented anyone from seeing any stars.

Out of breath, Ianto still tried to explain to Jack, Gwen and Owen what had happened before.

Toshiko guided Jack to the dot she was seeing on the map on her computer.

''There it is.'' said Toshiko. ''She stopped. She should be right there. Right in front of you.''

The darkness kept them from seeing anything as Jack slowed down.

They were forced to step out and see for themselves where their target had disappeared to.

They had driven into a dead-end, but there was no sign of Lucy Saxon.

Only trees with orange and red, dying leaves on either side of the street, and many parked cars, who reflected the fading moonlight into their faces.

''She should be right there!'' Toshiko said. ''The energy-signature stopped there!''

But Jack silently shook his head.

''We lost her.'' he spoke.


	3. The Hollow Man

Lucy Saxon tossed everything in her living room aside. Everything she had neglected for the past few months. The millions of unread magazines she had once subscribed to. The dead plants on the table.

The chairs. The table. The television.

The room had to be empty. The room had to be clear. Blemished of all things unworthy.

The heartbeat in her hands gave her strength.

A passionate dream which engulfed her, which overwhelmed her like a god's kiss.

The embrace of a father.

The smile of a newborn child.

The mercy of a tyrant.

The ring was burning her skin, burning like a supernova inside her right hand, yet it felt so cold.

The voice no-one but she could hear told her to relax. For the time had arrived for her to smile, not grieve.

They would dance together again, like they had before.

She dreamt of it every night.

He would love her again as he did before, when all they had was each other, and not the world.

Lucy closed the long, dusty grey curtains to hide herself from spying neighbors.

She laid down the green ring in the centre of the room, on the bloodred carpet.

As it started to glow, Lucy Saxon quickly searched her handbag for a key and opened the cabinet by the window.

Hidden away in the drawer lay a rusty, grey urn. A family heirloom with a new function.

Lucy scattered the ash on top of and around the green, glowing ring.

As the ash touched the ring it started to glow ominously in the same dark green colour.

She clutched her heart in desperate anxiety, feeling the same rekindled excitement a kidnapped schoolgirl would feel when seeing the light of the sun for the first time in years.

She resisted the urge to lay beside it, on the ground, and let the ring's energy flow right into her. To let that amazing feeling pour right into her soul.

She gasped for air as the ring seemed to cause an explosion of light in the grim, grey room which represented her empty life.

But its light faded away and Lucy felt like falling to her knees.

But then she realised that's what she was supposed to do anyway.

She crouched down on to her knees and slowly approached the glowing ring covered in ash.

She leaned over as if she was attempting to kiss it.

Closer and closer until there was but an inch between her lucious red lips and the ring's green metal.

And then she stopped.

She soundlessly breathed in very deeply, soaking in the stolen energy of the Rift into her lungs.

And then she breathed out slowly, putting her entire soul into one single breath.

And the ring started to glow.

Brighter and brighter until the entire house seemed to shine.

Until its bright rays escaped through the small opening through the curtains, through the glass of the closed window and into the dark, endless night, where it never stopped travelling, travelling on and on into space and beyond.

Forever.

Lucy Saxon backed away as the green ash seemed to rise from the bloodred carpet and merge with the bright, yellow light. Like stardust falling upon a desert's sand.

A figure emerged from the dust, and Lucy's body started to tingle, until all she could do was stare.

Stare into those deep, hypnotic, dangerous eyes of the man called Harold Saxon.

And the Master gazed right back.

* * *

Silently he lifted his right arm.

His eyes had to adjust to the pale, dim light in this dark, grey house.

He raised his hand and put his fingers to his lips, touching his own cold flesh with the tip of his tongue.

And then he closed his mouth and looked away, trying to determine how he tasted.

And Lucy could only gaze at him, awaiting the moment where he would finally speak.

But he didn't speak.

He stepped away from the bloodred carpet on the floor with a swift, hyperactive pace and approached the mirror which hung on the wall next to the cabinet.

Like a frightened animal he gazed into the mirror at his own reflection, touching his cheek with two fingers, before running that hand through his short, dark hair.

With a swift motion he turned around, scaring Lucy with his violent eyes.

Eyes she still could not believe that they were actually looking at her right now.

It was like a dream, where he had not died. Where she had not killed him.

But he had died, and now he stood here as if time had returned to that fateful day.

He still wore that black suit, black tie and white shirt he was wearing the day he died, and in his shirt Lucy could spot the hole where the bullet penetrated his clothing and flesh.

''You remembered.'' the Master whispered, and Lucy gasped at hearing his voice.

After a moment she regained the control over her own body again and answered nervously: ''I did.''

The Master looked away, touching his face still. His hand slowly touched his neck, until it swiftly touched his stomach.

''You brought me back.'' he whispered.

''I did.'' Lucy repeated.

The Master restrained his slow breathing and gazed into her eyes.

His dark eyes seemed to hypnotize her, dominate her and rip her apart in just that single moment, until he blinked and turned away.

''I'm back!'' he yelled at the window, at the world.

He pulled away the dusty curtains to look at the nocturnal sky, where the stars of galaxies far away greeted him like old friends and enemies.

But then he gazed over at the vase with the dead roses standing on the wooden cabinet.

He should have knocked over that vase in that previous motion, but it remained untouched.

It stood motionless on the cabinet.

The Master slowly stepped towards it, reaching out his hand towards the dead roses, but as he curled his fingers to stroke the dying leaves, his ghostlike fingers fell straight through the red rose.

Then he violently turned towards Lucy, showing his teeth in a smile filled with rage.

A smile which wasn't a smile at all.

''Why can't I touch the roses?'' he asked.

But Lucy didn't answer him.

''Why can't I touch the roses?'' he repeated, raising the volume of his incredible voice.

His murderous eyes pierced right through her flesh and bones, demanding an answer.

And no-one had ever dared to defy him before.

Lucy froze in fear, but the Master would not stop.

He pushed on.

''TELL ME!" he yelled.

''I didn't complete the process.'' Lucy spoke and the Master seemed to calm down.

''What? You didn't...you didn't...'' he stammered. ''You what?''

He approached her with a subtle step.

"Well then…FIX IT!" he yelled.

''I did it on purpose.'' Lucy added.

And again he stepped forward in a subtle, slow dangerous dance.

His murderous eyes never blinked once.

But he knew he could do nothing.

He was powerless.

Harmless.

Like a dog without teeth.

Like a tamed tiger.

Like a caged shark.

With a short breath and a mocking smile he looked away, trying to come up with something to say to the woman who had killed and revived him in for him one single moment.

Because for him it was like he had just awoken from a deep sleep, and the last thing he remembered was the Doctor's tears.

He smiled as he was reminded of his victorious final hour.

'So?' he asked. 'What are you waiting for? Do you expect me to say 'thank you'? Do you expect me to get down on my knees and beg? What, my dear? What?'

'The Doctor destroyed everything. He and that Martha Jones.' Lucy said.

She was no longer afraid. This position of power she now held over the Master made her feel really good.

Possibilities crossed her mind that had never occurred to her before.

'And you know what?' Lucy went on. 'I'm glad it happened. I'm glad it's over.'

The Master listened patiently as she spoke, until the time came his carefully chosen words were finally able to be spoken, piercing the tense silence of the night with a malevolent kindness.

'So why did you bring me back?' he asked. 'If you were really so glad its over… if you were really so glad I lost everything… then why am I talking to you right now? Tell me. I really want to know.'

Lucy hesitated to answer the vicious Timelord.

'I brought you back because of a choice I made a long time ago.' Lucy spoke. 'Do you remember? For better and for worse?'

'Yes, and until death do us part!' the Master spoke.

'Being married to an alien gives me the right to bend the rules a little, don't you think, my love?' Lucy replied.

'Do you hear me complaining?' The Master said amused.

The drums accompanied his every word.

His every thought.

He cursed the eternal, tormenting rhythm which had poisoned his mind into a greater insanity.

The unknown, the forever, the old, the new, the forgotten…

It had returned with life.

The pace of the drums accompanied the flow of his Timelord blood which were warming up his cold, new and fresh body.

He approached Lucy with his kind smile, preparing the seduction and manipulation of his beloved wife.

'I just want to know.' Lucy asked. 'Do you not love me anymore?'

The Master moved even closer.

Then he raised his right arm and slowly reached for her throat.

His transparent hands gripped an untouchable, fragile neck in a chokingly, violent lock.

And Lucy stood there silently, frozen, awaiting the end of this violent mood, awaiting an answer.

And he lowered his hand, and he answered her question.

'I love you with all my heart.' the Master then said, as the cold in Lucy's heart passed.

And Lucy's eyes started to sparkle happily.

'You were always so easily fooled!' the Master cried, losing control of the muscles in his abdomen as he let out a burst of mocking laughter. 'You're pathetic!'

If the Master had revealed a sword from behind his back and would have stabbed Lucy in the chest with it, she would have felt exactly the same as she felt now.

Devastated, she tried to suppress her urge to cry.

'To be honest.' the Master went on. 'I've never loved you.'

The silence which followed was powerful and deadly, and with a broken heart Lucy shut her eyes.

'NO WAIT!'

Lucy's heart was racing, not knowing how to react as her emotions and stamina were put to the ultimate test.

'I've loved you since the first moment I saw you.' the Master said, reaching with both hands to touch her red, blushing cheeks. 'You're my muse. My protector. My saviour. My beautiful, faithful companion.'

And then he smiled lovingly as he approached to hug her, supposedly forgetting he could not touch her, because he was but a ghost.

So when Lucy approached him to accept his embrace, he walked right through her.

A chilling cold moved across Lucy's spine as the Master walked through her, towards the other side of the grey room.

'What do you want to hear from me, Lucy?!' the Master asked. 'WHAT DO YOU WANT TO HEAR?!!'

But Lucy did not answer him.

'I know what you want to hear.' the Master said.

'Then say it.' Lucy said.

She turned around and grabbed the green ring from the floor.

How long had he ignored her?

How long had he mistreated her?

How long had he beaten her?

Lucy knew.

She remembered every single second of it.

'Say it!'

And the Master raised his chin as his venomous eyes gazed into hers.

'I'm sorry.' he said. 'I'm so sorry.'

And then, all of a sudden, the sound of drums in his mind, simply stopped, ceasing to be.


	4. The Normal Couple

''Thank you, Marge.'' David Ross spoke, standing on location in Cardiff.

Smoke appeared out of his mouth as he spoke, shivering as he looked into the camera, holding the microphone closer to his face with his white hands.

''It has nearly been 6 months ago that the mysterious events on board the Valiant took place, but still the police will not share their discoveries to the public. Witnesses refuse to speak to the press, and all footage of the incident, which was broadcasted live across the whole world, has all been surprisingly confiscated, leaving us with many questions still.

Who killed President Winters? Who are the Toclafane, and where are they now?

And more importantly, where is Harold Saxon?''

The 18-year old kid refocused his eyes away from the television-screens in the shop, and in the reflection of the window he saw himself. He gazed for a moment at his own reflection, examining his coat and scarf before he started to adjust them with his sensitive fingers.

''...but wherever we investigate,'' David Ross went on.'' everything leads to the same place. Torchwood.''

He noticed there was an annoying dot of filth on his glasses, so he took them off and started to clean it with his cold scarf. He rubbed it carefully with the black fabric, until he put them back on again. The spot was gone, but in his sight something new had appeared, in the reflection of the window. A woman, wearing dark sunglasses and a red scarf.

For a moment which seemed to last much longer, he stood there gazing at her, hesitating to act on his curiosity. For he knew who she was. There had been a time when her face had been all over the news. Every single, newspaper, tabloid, news broadcast or internet-site showed her beautiful face, standing beside her lover in a mighty pose.

And now she stood here, hiding from some unknown eyes. Waiting for something, something he did not know.

''...lead by someone called ''the Captain''.'' David Ross went on, on the television-screens. ''A man who was shortly known as one of three most wanted criminals in England.''

Suddenly he found himself turning away from the screens and boldly approaching the seemingly fragile woman in an unexpected brave move.

''Are you Lucy Saxon?'' the young man asked.

His heart was beating in his neck as he awaited an answer from the petrified woman. She looked at him from behind her dark sunglasses, and for a moment the young man feared he had been wrong.

''I'm sorry.'' she replied. ''You must be mistaking me for someone else...''

She moved away, but the young man kept persisting. He had to know for sure.

''But you look just like her!'' he said.

The people around them in the bright street glanced over at them, curiously wondering what was going on.

''You are wrong.'' she said, and this time she turned her back on him completely, walking away to the other side of the street.

Quickly the young man reached for his pocket and grabbed his inactive cell phone. His nails pressed the small buttons of the tiny phone, until a brief message of ''Welcome!'' was shown. He quickly dialled his access-code, accessed the phone's camera options and aimed it at Lucy Saxon, determined to get his answers. As Lucy looked back, for one short moment, the young man pressed a button and accompanied by a familiar sound effect, the moment was frozen and the image was saved into the phone's memory.

But then a black, gloved hand reached over his shoulder towards his phone, and with a subtle, but swift, precise motion he stole the mobile phone from his hands.

The boy's eyes followed the hands, not believing this was actually happening. The black gloves lead to a black coat. The black coat to a face.

The face of Harold Saxon.

For a split second he challenged the boy to reach out and grab his phone, but the boy could not move. And so therefore the Master disassembled the phone and took out the puny green 'sim'-card, which he put in his mouth and swallowed. Afterwards he merely dropped the disassembled pieces of the blue phone on to the ground and walked away to join his wife at the other side of the street, where their gloved hands entwined and their lips met in a loving kiss...

* * *

They escaped into a quiet alleyway, where a rotten smell of old spaghetti lingered. Lucy sighed as she closed her eyes and put her back against the wall. ''He won't be the last to ask questions.'' Lucy said, taking her sunglasses off.

The Master positioned himself beside her and sighed as well.

''I know.'' he said.

''They will hunt.'' Lucy went on. ''They will find us.''

The Master closed his eyes as well, chewing on his third portion of chicken nuggets today. He had been feeling hungry since the moment of his resurrection, and for good reason. His body needed to replenish its energy. It needed energy. It needed food, and lots of it.

''Will we ever know peace again? Freedom?'' Lucy asked.

Lucy did not see how he clenched his left fist and started to punch his leg with subtle strength. The pain in his leg would distract him from the pain in his mind...

''A normal life?'' Lucy went on.

''What is normal anyway?'' said the Master.

What is normal, indeed? To live a year all over again, as if it never happened? To kiss the lips of a lover you killed and resurrected?

To be supreme rulers of the world, only to fall down, from the top of the food chain to the bottom.

To be the First Lady and end up working in a shop. For that's what Lucy had been doing for the last couple of months.

She had been hiding. From Torchwood. From everyone.

No, this was far from normal. In fact, Lucy dared to say she had never been normal. Ever.

''We must leave.'' the Master suddenly said. ''Leave Cardiff I mean. As fast as we can.''

''All right.'' Lucy spoke, without hesitation or doubt. ''Let's go, right now. But where to?''

''London.'' the Master said.

Lucy smiled as she gazed lovingly into his eyes, realising he had a plan.

He would save her, as he'd done before. Save her from the mundane, the ordinary, the obsolete. Together they would take on the world again.

Together.

* * *

The Master's unquenchable thirst and hunger slowed their journey down, for he had to eat in every diner and restaurant they encountered. At one point Lucy noticed how the Master started glowing, and she realised the resurrection did not come without side-effects, which the Master assured her would pass eventually.

It would take them many hours to traverse the city, as the Master refused to enter the metro system. There, he said, they could be easily surrounded, by enemies, by prying eyes. The cramped carriage would burden them with a probably fatal, tactical disadvantage. They might just as well walk straight into Torchwood's headquarters and save them the trouble of hunting in the first place. But the Master would not let himself be captured so easily.

''Let them hunt,'' he said, ''let them try.'' and that's why they would walk for hours on end through the beautiful city of Cardiff, passing many streets, a market-place, a mall, withered old trees and white seagulls flying through a cold, white sky in what would have been a lovely day's activity.

The grey clouds in the sky up ahead frightened many, but not them.

Lucy feared the eyes of the common folk. What if someone would recognise them, just like before? Lucy tried to find the Master's eyes, but he gazed in front of him, absent-minded, tormented by some unknown plague. They would ask questions, Lucy knew. …questions she could not answer. Questions they wouldn't answer, for they would bring about their downfall. But there would always be a chance, that no-one would believe them anyway…

Nonetheless, the eyes were still there, searching for them. The eyes of the undead, the people who had died when the Toclafane attacked, yet they lived still. The Doctor turned back time, saved them, as Lucy saved the Master.

Both using Timelord magic to save the people they love.

'Don't be afraid, my dear.' the Master spoke, swallowing a piece of liquorish as they finally arrived at, Caerdydd Canolog, the Cardiff Central Railway Station, at dusk.

The clouds were coloured by the beautiful orange sunset in the distance.

He mocked the big letters on the front of the station, mouthing silently the words The Great Western Railway' as they got closer.

'The Archangel Network will protect us…' the Master continued.

'But it was destroyed by the Doctor, 6 months ago!' Lucy said, ending the Master's swift and easy pace towards the station's entrance.

'The effects of the Network remain.' the Master simply stated.

'After 6 months?'

'They will not remember us,' the Master. 'Only the drumming and our message underneath…'

And indeed he was right.

They entered the station holding hands, and with a smile on their faces, pretending as if nothing was wrong and that they were just another couple leaving Cardiff by train. They bought their tickets and located the big announcements board, where they searched for their train's data among the hundreds of names on the board.

"London!" the Master spoke cheerfully. "Here we come!"

* * *

"I hate to say it, Jack, but you were right." Owen said through his headset as he gazed across the station's corridors at the odd couple standing in front of the big board. He stood beside Ianto who was using a newspaper as a disguise.

"They're right where you said they would be."

"They?" Jack replied.

"See for yourself." Owen said.

"It's her." Ianto confirmed for the second time. "It's definitely her."

Jack hid around the corner and leaned slightly forward into the main hall. His wild eyes searched through the crowd of people, desperate to find his target. "My God…" Jack said. "It's him."

He looked away, he even closed his eyes, yet the image of what he had just seen was burned into his eyes.

"Harold Saxon is alive…" he said.


	5. The Man with the Bloodstained Hands

Jack restrained himself from acting like anything but a professional.

He looked away from the mass-murderer who could not be alive, but was. He pressed his fingers against his headset as he pretended not to see.

''Cover all the exits...'' Jack spoke to his team as he used the loud announcement of a female voice as cover.

''Jack?'' Gwen asked. ''Are you all right?''

She stood on the other side of the main hall, gazing right at Jack's haunted, pale face.

''Never mind me.'' Jack stated, slightly aggitated. ''Mind him. Whatever you do, don't let your eyes off him. He's top priority from now on.''

Jack casually watched the Master standing silently in the centre of the main hall.

''What ever happened to 'follow the girl'?'' Owen asked venomously.

''Forgot the girl.'' Jack violently said, watching Lucy Saxon from the corner of his eyes.

The black coat and dark presence of Harry Saxon almost seemed to cast a cloud of invisibility around him, as if Jack's eyes didn't want to see him, and Jack knew why.

'She's not important anymore.'' he went on. ''We move in slowly, on my mark.''

In his coat pocket he reached for the cold steel of his old trusty gun.

''Don't alarm him too soon.'' said Jack. ''Don't make any sudden moves. Act normal.

But whatever you do, don't let him escape!''

* * *

Lucy grabbed her handbag as the Master again checked the information of the train to London they would soon catch. 

''Everything I have, I have on me now.'' she said as she rummaged through her red, leather handbag.

All of her possessions, all of her money, her make-up, her passport, everything she deemed valuable enough, everything she could bring with her, she had put into that bag.

Her life was in there.

The Master did not look away from the large board as he squinted his eyes even more.

''You abandoned everything...'' he spoke. ''All for me?''

Lucy ignored her handbag as she looked up.

''You are all I have.'' Lucy said, pausing as she waited for the Master to gaze back.

''If I could divide the world, I would split them in half.''

The Master looked at her beautiful red lips and then into her passionate, fragile eyes.

''There's you, and there's everything else.'' Lucy spoke.

* * *

Toshiko tapped rhythmically on the keyboard with her swift fingers, removing the pictures and data of Lucy Saxon from her desktop and replaced it with a summary of arrivals and departures of many trains one of which their prey was about to catch. 

''The train to Manchester arrives at 19:01 at platform 10c.'' Toshiko spoke into her headset. ''The train to London leaves at 19:05 at platform 6b...but without more information I could just close my eyes and pick at random!''

''It doesn't matter which train he gets on.'' Jack said. ''The only thing which matters is that we stop him before he gets there.''

''There!'' Toshiko said. ''I'm in!''

Toshiko hacked into the station's camera-network and searched through the ocean of travellers for the Saxons just as the rest of the team was doing.

''I knew you could do it, Tosh.'' said Jack.

''I found them!'' said Toshiko.

* * *

Ianto Jones ignored the eyes of Harold Saxon and could only gaze upon Lucy Saxon's red scarf. 

Last time he looked at her she seemed pale and old and dangerous like a woman who had nothing to lose, and only one goal.

Now she seemed happy. So strangely happy, like a flower leaning towards the sun to catch its rays of unearthly delight.

He saw the ring on Lucy's finger, an ancient, green jewel, who had lost its shine and power...

Ianto nearly tripped, stumbling as he bumped into a traveller with a massive rucksack on his back.

* * *

The Master looked around with his swift animal eyes. 

His eyes lingered on the bald-headed security-guard in the yellow, bright vest who scanned the halls with his small eyes, as the silence in his mind seemed to numb his senses.

The female announcer spoke again. Her voice echoed through the busy white halls of the station as the Master fiercely took Lucy's hand.

He pulled her closer and started to brush her long, pale blond hair away from her ear, pretending to kiss her, but his lips only scratched her cheek in a slow, sensual touch.

* * *

Jack gazed into Gwen's fearful eyes, then returned Ianto's hesitant gaze. 

He could not find Owen in the crowd of people. Where was he?

* * *

''We're being watched.'' the Master whispered into her ear, and Lucy's eyes looked away, into the crowd. 

Torchwood was there, chasing their enemy, surrounding their prey like vultures circling a dying carcass.

But they were not dead. They were alive!

The Master took Lucy's hand and guided her through the crowd of travellers.

The living, the dying, the undead.

The rich, the poor, the unaware, the smart, the dumb, the ignorant.

Businessmen, tourists and all men and women longing for their beds, except for the insomniac:

The Master and Lucy passed them all as they scanned above for the signs leading them to their train, as they ran and never stopped running.

He kept gazing around with fast, dangerous movements with his sharp teeth and animal eyes.

His tongue touched his upper lip as his brilliant mind thought of ways to escape their coming onslaught, their execution.

Lucy relished the touch of his skin against hers, the feeling of his fuzzy, black coat as she touched his shoulder, and the incredible warmth radiating from his very soul, as their fingers entwined in a firm embrace.

And she knew he would never let her be harmed. She finally knew.

He did love her.

* * *

The Master grabbed Lucy's arm to look at her watch. 

When they arrived, they were late.

Now they were even later.

Their train would leave without them if they would wait any longer, and they would have to wait for the next train, which Torchwood would never let them catch.

Then the Master let go of Lucy's hand, to leave her shivering and trembling in fear and doubt and desperation, reaching for his touch which he would not grant her.

And he looked at Jack, standing not far away.

And as their eyes met and Jack reached for his gun, the security-guard's eyes twitched as he grabbed his walkie-talkie.

''Captain Jack Harkness!'' the Master cried, mocking him like only the Master could.

And his eyes challenged him with an unstoppable energy and rage and an unexpected, mad patience.

''Don't do it, Saxon!'' Jack yelled, aiming his weapon at the unbreakable Timelord.

As the people started to scream and run in terror, Torchwood approached to support their leader, but the Master only smiled as he pushed Lucy away towards the staircase, leading to the platform.

''Fancy a sprint?'' the Master joked, adjusting his gloves to fit his hands again.

Jack's eyes glanced at the sign above, realising they had arrived at platform 6.

''He's going to London!'' Jack cried. ''Get him!''

The Master ran, yelling at Lucy to run as well.

Jack lowered his weapon, never intending on firing anyway, and ran after him.

The security went mad, not knowing what the hell was going on as they chased after Jack.

Lucy had a head-start and was the first to see the train standing exactly where it was supposed to be, perfectly delayed in a coincidental occurence which gave Lucy and the Master more time to catch it.

''Tosh!'' Jack yelled as he pressed the microphone of the headset against his cheek.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he reached for the Master's black coat.

''Stop the train!'' he yelled.

''How?'' Toshiko asked.

''Call the station,'' Jack yelled. ''Tell them there's a bomb on board! A terrorist! An alien! Anything!''

The last people already stepped inside the train and the conductors were about to close the doors.

''Stop or I will shoot!'' Jack yelled at the Master, running ahead of him. ''I WILL SHOOT!''

''NO!" the Master yelled, fearing to be reunited with death just as he was so close to his salvation.

''Stop Saxon!'' Jack yelled as he stopped his pace to aim his gun at the Master's back. ''MASTER!''

But the Master didn't stop.

He reached the train and his beloved wife.

Jack's finger touched the trigger as he watched them run, but he could not and would not fire while Lucy blocked his shot.

''Hurry!'' Lucy said as she approached the train's door.

The Master opened it, but Lucy pushed him aside.

Then she collapsed backwards into the Master's hands as a gunshot deafened everyone's ears.

Owen stood inside the train, aiming his gun at the doorway. He gazed down at the bloody coat of Lucy Saxon before the Master's bloodstained hands reached for his throat.

''You...'' he said with a murderous, rumbling voice.

Owen dropped his gun as his lungs were deprived of air. His hands reached for his neck in an instinctive reflex.

And there they were.

The drums…

Threatened by this ancient malice, Owen was frozen by fear as he gazed into the Master's eyes, filled with rage.

But he did not blink or beg for his life. He merely awaited final judgement as the master's hands tightened around his throat.

And just when Owen thought he would feel no more. Just when he thought he had met his final doom, the Master threw him, and his gun, out of the cabin, on to the dusty platform.

The doors closed and as the train started moving, the Master glanced a final look at Captain Jack through the window as he and his team was being arrested by the station's security-guards.

Then he crouched to attend his wounded, bleeding wife, who never cried or moaned or sighed as she felt the pain of the bullet inside her body.

She only reached with her trembling hand for the Master's hand, and she held it tight as she gazed passionately into his eyes, before she finally passed out.

* * *

The Master violently persuaded the train's conductor and driver to keep the train moving, as he bound Lucy's red scarf around the wound to keep pressure on it, telling them he would find help for his beloved wife in the next town where it would stop. 

A hospital, or a doctor, which he ironically needed.

But he lied and as he stepped from the train in this Welsh place not far from Cardiff and quickly entered another train, carrying his unconscious wife in his hands, almost as if he were sacrificing her to the gods.

He calculated the amount of blood loss and the damage of the bullet in his mind, but he never stopped to look at her.

He did not cry, thinking of her pain. He did not yell, crying for revenge.

He was perfectly and utterly calm as he carried his wife's unconscious body through the cloudless night.

A soft, white mist lingered in the air as the night grew darker. Drops of water floated in the air, granting a cold, wet touch of rain to whoever walked through the mist.

The Master's coat and gloves were slowly soaking up the blood Lucy was losing.

On the abandoned platform, in this unknown place in Britain, in this dark, cold night, the Master laid down his wife on the cold street.

He took off his gloves and coat, and put it around her as a remedy for the cold, like a dark blanket.

The Master thought he was alone, as he hid himself and his wife in the shadows of the empty station's platform, but he wasn't.

A stranger was sleeping not far from them, with his head resting on his large rucksack, dressed in many layers, and a scarf, gloves and hat to keep him warm.

Lucy opened her eyes once in a while, and in her eyes the Master could read her weakness and her dying strength.

''We can't go to a hospital.'' the Master said to his wife. ''They'll ask too many questions. They'll keep us in custody until dear Captain Jack finds us again.''

Lucy did not have the strength or courage to ask him what would happen next.

''I have to remove the bullet myself.'' the Master said, thinking of ways to get what he needed.

To save the woman who had saved him, from death. From a life of imprisonment. From a cage, and a robbed life.

Lucy grabbed his hand in fear, as the colour faded completely from her face.

''I trust you.'' she said.

* * *

The stranger woke up from his slumber and removed the ear pods from his ears, shutting off his I-pod as he gazed upon the man and the woman in the shadows. 

First he thought he had attacked her, but then he noticed the way how she held his hand. But he knew something had to be wrong, until he realised she was wounded.

''Is she all right?'' the man asked.

The Master backed away and stood up, trying to act normal.

The stranger had a black beard and wore glasses.

''I used to be a medical student, until I dropped out of school of course.'' he said. ''But I can still help out in emergencies.''

''Oh, thank God!'' the Master mocked, feigning desperation. ''We're saved! Please, help her! She's dying!''

''I'm Sam.'' the former medical student said as he took off his gloves and examined the wound. ''Tell me what happened.''

''Some...gang...chased us. They had guns.'' the Master started telling as Sam started to remove the scarf. ''We managed to escape them, but the last bullet hit.''

''That sounds horrible!'' Sam said.

Lucy's eyes opened and closed whenever she woke up or lost consciousness again.

''Have you contacted the police?'' asked Sam. ''Have you called an ambulance?''

''No, I haven't.'' the Master said.

''You should have done that right away!'' Sam cried. ''If help doesn't come in time she'll die! We can't do this on our own!''

''I can.'' the Master said.

''What?'' Sam asked, confused by what the Master said, thinking he didn't hear it right.

''We have to keep pressure on the wound.'' Sam continued. ''And keep it as sterile as possible. Yes, I remember... we have to clean the wound!''

''Certainly!'' the Master cried exaggerated. ''You are so clever!''

Sam looked up at the Master once before he grabbed his giant rucksack and started searching for the medical kit he always took with him on his trips.

''We are so lucky to have met you here!'' the Master continued, but his big smile faded away when Sam faced the other way.

A haze of wet, cold wind was blowing in their faces as Sam ordered the Master to keep pressing Lucy's wound as he took out the small grey box and opened it.

Cotton and bandages and all kinds of things was to be found inside the box, but also a small knife.

''Move!'' Sam cried, ordering the Master to let go of Lucy's wound, robbing the Master of any attempt to heal her himself.

As Lucy cried in agony because of Sam's treatment, the Master subtly reached out for the small knife and started to examine it with his small, black eyes.

''There, the wound is clean. I hope.'' Sam said as he finished. ''But I don't think she'll last very long like this. We have to call an ambulance.''

He reached for his cell-phone and started typing.

''Nice knife you got here, Sam.'' the Master asked. ''Is it sharp?''

''Yes. Terribly.'' Sam said, not even looking up to look at the Master as he spoke, but he knew what he was talking about.

''Really?'' the Master said.

The Master pricked the knife into his finger and twitched in pain, crying out a whispered ''Au!''.

Lucy moaned on the floor as Sam waited for the dialling tone.

''Well then!'' the Master said. ''Let's put it to the test, shall we?''

With a vicious thrust the Master stabbed the knife in Sam's side, and instead of answering the caller he could only scream as the Master retracted his arm.

As the blood started flowing, the Master twisted his wrist and stabbed again, before Sam could retaliate, right below his left shoulder, in his chest.

Again, he stabbed him in his knee.

Sam cried as he dropped his cell-phone and looked at the Master in utter disbelief, not knowing why he would murder the man who tried to help him.

An insane, never-ending, drumbeat; the drums of war, the drums of madness, the drums of bloodshed, started pounding in his mind, tormenting him beyond belief. As the pain in his mind increased he could do nothing but shriek an agonizing scream of pain and death and blood as his hand kept on thrusting the small blade into the human's body.

The Master stabbed and stabbed again until his hands were entirely coloured red.

Sam reached for the Master's face with his own hands, smearing the blood across the Master's cheeks, but without strength to grab him, Sam seemed to slip away, falling down into the black void known as death.

The Master fell to his knees when he finally came back to his senses only to reach out to Lucy's pale hand, but she was unconscious and could do nothing to help.

As the drums went on, louder and louder then ever before, the Master couldn't do anything to escape his punishment.

His destiny.


	6. The Dark Lady's Return

Martha Jones awoke uneasily from her slumber.

She sleepily raised her head from the soft cushion, as her eyes adjusted to the pale morninglight shining through the creaks between the curtains and walls.

For a moment she panicked, believing she had overslept, thinking she was supposed to be at work at least three hours ago, but then she remembered there was no need to rush to the hospital today.

She sleepily pushed the blanket off, before she stretched her ams and jawned.

She welcomed the morning into her senses. Her eyes, ears, nose and lips.

A new day had begun and Martha was going to enjoy it.

And she would enjoy enjoying it.

Today was one of the few days she had off.

Today she knew and would make sure, that it would be just her and her family in a splendid, happy day.

Together.

* * *

''Good morning!'' Martha spoke happily as she entered the living room in her green pyjama's.

''Good morning.'' her mum and dad replied, sitting quietly together at the breakfast-table, releasing each other's hands which they were holding gently and lovingly until Martha entered.

Bright light of the morning shined through the windows just like it had done in Martha's room, and it softly reflected against the light blue walls of the living room.

''You're quite cheerful today.'' Clive asked.

''Yeah, I know.'' Martha replied with a smile as she grabbed a carton of milk from the refrigerator, placing it on the kitchen sink before continuing. ''And you know what?''

Her parents lovingly smiled at her, listening patiently to her words as they stirred their spoons slowly into their mugs filled with coffee.

''It doesn't feel strange anymore.'' Martha finished.

''I know exactly what you mean.'' Francine said, before giving a frustrated look to Martha's father who was grabbing a piece of dirt from the sleeve of her grey, woollen sweater.

As Martha opened the small closet above her head and took out a small, white mug, decorated with a smiling pink face and the word 'happy', she poured the milk into it and said: ''I feel like whistling, but of course I can't.''

Clive then teased her by whistling happily and perfectly, whistling the tune of 'I'm singing in the rain' before he returned a smile to his daughter.

Martha glanced over her shoulder as she heard how a newspaper was being pushed through the mailbox in the door in the hallway and fell upon the mat, but then she looked up as she heard another voice whistling in the background, finishing the tune in a melodious mimicry of the song.

She couldn't see her as the back of the large, comfortable chair was faced towards her, but then Tish turned the big, leather chair around and greeted her sister with a bright, happy laugh.

''Tish!'' Martha cried, hugging her beloved sister. ''I didn't know you were coming!''

At the breakfast-table, Clive lovingly laid his hand upon Francine's hand, before he stood up to get the paper from the hall.

''I wanted it to be a surprise.'' Tish replied.

''Well, you succeeded admirably.'' Martha said.

The television was turned on a long while ago, yet muted, but no-one had been paying attention to the machine and the bright images it radiated into the happy room. Not even Martha gazed at the television and the news it broadcasted as she escorted her sister to the breakfast-table.

Until the phone started ringing and Martha rushed to answer its call, putting the phone to her ear and lips, unable to stop grinning happily in this perfect, happy morning.

''Hello?'' Martha asked.

''Don't let them see the news.''

The voice was abrupt and quick to the point, almost rude, and it did not begin with an introduction.

Yet, it seemed familiar.

Confused, Martha slightly shook her head as she awaited clarification.

''What?'' she asked.

Her family was still laughing in the background. Martha's father returned from the hallway with newspapers in his hands, before he threw them casually on to the table.

''Don't talk. Just listen.'' the voice said. ''Don't let your family watch the news. Don't let them listen to the radio. Don't let them read the newspapers. Especially '_the Guardian_.'''

Martha looked around at her family, sitting happily at the table, but when she turned back, preparing to ask why she had to obey this order, preparing to ask who this man with the familiar voice was, her eyes focused on the muted television, and she saw images of unbelievable terror. Martha gasped and almost dropped the phone out of her hand, unable to believe what her eyes were telling her.

And at that exact moment she knew who the voice on the other end of the line was, and she knew that what he said was right.

Martha dropped the phone into the seat of the comfortable, leather chair and rushed to the breakfast-table, yelling: ''DAD!''

She had trouble breathing as her head started to spin.

How could she convince them not to read the newspaper? How could she lie to her family?

How could she save her family from the trauma they had been recovering from for months?

''Martha?'' Clive asked as Martha desperately clutched the newspapers, which she saw to be a magazine of workbenches and the Guardian, in her hands. ''What's the matter?''

It was Tish who glanced at the phone Martha had just answered and unintentionally gazed at the television.

''No!'' Martha cried as she ran across the room and turned the television off.

She was sweating, and grew even more nervous when her family stood up from their chairs, aching to know what was troubling Martha.

''Martha?'' Francine asked. ''What's wrong?''

''Nothing's wrong.'' Martha said, creating a fake smile on her face to fool her family.

Her forehead suddenly felt wet, as if something had just drenched her in sweat.

Martha Jones had saved the world, but lying to her family seemed in comparison so much more difficult.

''Everything's fine.'' Martha lied.

''It's okay, Martha.'' Clive said as he approached her. ''You can tell us.''

''Who was it you talked to on the phone?'' Francine asked. ''Was it the Doctor?''

''No...'' Martha answered.

''Why are you...'' Clive tried to ask, but Martha intervened, losing her temper in a fit of nervous fear.

''Stop it!'' Martha said. ''All right? I'm just...I'm just telling you not to read the papers today, okay? Just...just don't.''

''But why?'' Tish asked.

''Just because.'' Martha replied nervously. The newspapers in her hands nearly slipped from her grip, but she managed to hold on as her hands started trembling. She swallowed as she gazed right back into her family's confused eyes. They tried to mouth words, but they were unable to produce any sounds.

Martha couldn't hold on to her strength. She bowed down her head and laid down the newspapers into the leather chair and then reached for the remote.

''I shouldn't let you see this.'' Martha said. ''I really shouldn't, but I know you will find out eventually.''

Her fingers searched the buttons of the remote by touch. Martha tried to keep talking, but found herself unable to do so, so she turned on the television and let the images speak for themselves.

* * *

_**Cardiff Shootout**_

_by David Ross_

_--Cardiff_

_Last night an incident inside a railway-station in Cardiff caused a nation-wide panic of a terrorist-attack, yet quickly the police issued a press-release which stated otherwise. The police did not elaborate on the details, however the Guardian has been able to acquire shocking new clues to what really happened inside the station.

* * *

_

Martha's eyes started to hurt, reading the article in the newspaper for the umpteenth time.

* * *

_Witnesses claim they saw a group of four people chasing after a man and a woman throughout the station._

_Camera-footage of the station's security-camera's confirm their stories, but also reveals the identity of the hunters as being the prime members of an institute funded by the government. A mysterious institute, rumoured to be based in Cardiff, known as Torchwood, lead by a man just as mysterious, named 'the Captain'.

* * *

_

She finally looked outside of the window. She had been reading this article again and again ever since she stepped into the large, black car this morning. She felt as if she had been sitting there for days, not hours. Martha kept on reading the article in search for clues of the Master's return.

* * *

_The police still refuses to answer questions relating to the identity of the chased man. Photographs taken by bystanders with their mobile phones show a man in his thirties, with black hair, wearing a black coat. Although no-one specifically remembers the man, when confronted with a picture of our missing Prime Minister Harold Saxon, they immediately confirmed that he was indeed the one Torchwood was after.

* * *

_

She still could not believe it and hoped it to be just another rumour. Just another sighting like they occurred so many times before. And these claims had never been confirmed as truth.

* * *

_The man cannot be identified solely by the footage of the security-camera's as the quality is too bad._

_And the police will not say whether this man really was Harold Saxon, and if the woman who traveled with him was his wife Lucy Saxon, and neither will the police say anything of why Torchwood was after him, and why they released Jack Harkness and his team so soon after their arrest._

_This leaves us with many questions, still left unanswered.

* * *

_

Time seemed to slow down as clouds and trees rushed by. Cars and roads and light and metal seemed to merge into one single fluent motion.

Martha rubbed her eyes, feeling woozy and nervous as she looked at the people who were driving her.

''Ianto Jones.'' Martha remembered the man saying to her when she first stepped into the car.

Then he introduced the woman who was sitting in the driver's seat: ''And this is Gwen.''

''I suggest you buckle up.'' Gwen then said, gazing into Martha's eyes via the rear-view mirror. ''We're under strict orders to take you to Wales.''

''And as you can see, we're in a bit of a hurry.'' Ianto added, slightly amused.

Martha Jones couldn't help but smile sarcastically as she was left gazing out the window at the fast, grey highway to her right, and the beautiful green meadows and, hills and marshes and far away villages to her left, wondering what had happened to her perfect, happy morning...

* * *

Her legs were hurting and her eyes were sore. Her bum felt like it had turned into solid iron and every bone in her body seemed to crunch as Martha finally climbed out of the black car.

She was revived by the cold wind and the smell of nearby water as she walked on the sidewalk of a semi-busy street. Martha believed it to be around three o'clock. Seagulls were flying over her head as she entered the small station. She quickly examined the entrance and its old, rough exterior of overgrown weed and plants and discovered the inside to be more or less the same, only rusty, dirty and old, as if no-one had cleaned it for ages and a weird smell lingered in the air.

Only then did she realise she had no idea where she was. They had taken her to some place in Wales, and now Martha knew nothing but to follow Ianto and Gwen.

It was a small station, where nothing much usually happened. Only today something had. Or to be precise, the day before.

A murder had taken place, and now an entire platform was being occupied by the police in their ongoing investigation to find the murderer, and no-one was able to catch the train they so anxiously had been waiting for.

A police-constable refused to let them pass, but when Ianto and Gwen showed their ID and mentioned their infamous boss, they and Martha, were allowed to pass.

Feeling overwhelmed and important, Martha felt great, until she looked into the eyes of the angered people who couldn't travel to work, or home, or anywhere, and Martha quickly, but powerfully, looked away.

There was nothing she could do about it, was there?

She indeed felt important, and was reminded of the fact that she really was.

She saved the world, yet didn't feel like bragging to a world oblivious to that fact.

A world that never lived in that year which never happened, except for a handful of people who wished they never had as well.

''This way.'' Ianto said. ''He's waiting for you.''

''Who the hell is this?'' police-inspector Stanley Bennet asked as Martha, still following Ianto and Gwen, climbed up the station's staircase, towards the platform where the murder took place only the night before.

The old, frustrated and tired inspector looked down at her once before deciding she and her comrades were not allowed access.

''She's a doctor.'' Ianto spoke.

''The dead don't need doctors.'' the inspector said as he nodded one of his constables to approach. ''They need coroners!''

''She's not here for the victim.'' a familiar voice spoke, which grew louder, with accompanying footsteps as it came nearer.

It was the same voice which spoke to Martha on the phone not so long ago, warning her of the scars old pains and nightmares might open up.

''She's here for me.'' Captain Jack Harkness spoke.

''For you?'' Stanley Bennet spoke. ''You've got to be fucking kidding...''

''No...'' Jack said amused, obviously joking as he flashed his charming smile at Martha, tapping his fingers on his chest. ''Bad heart you see. And she's got the only cure.''

Martha smiled, knowing fully well what the powers of Jack's charm could do, and she knew that she was being targeted and affected.

Martha shrugged it off with an ambiguous smile, returning the innuendo to the charming captain.

''Your arrogance will be your downfall, Jack Harkness.'' inspector Bennet spoke, re-adjusting the tie around his old neck. ''You and your Torchwood...''

''That's right.'' Jack spoke. ''Me and my Torchwood. Now move aside, my Torchwood needs to pass.''

The inspector muttered something angrily at the captain as he walked away, allowing Martha to approach Jack.

''Hello again.'' Jack said.

'''Ditto.'' Martha said.

Jack whispered something in Ianto's ear before he placed his hand on his shoulder and Ianto nodded before they parted ways. Gwen followed, leaving Jack and Martha alone to talk amongst the busy people of the police's investigators.

Jack escorted Martha on to the platform, and into the bright, white sunlight of the cold afternoon.

Martha made sure no-one was listening before she looked into Jack's eyes and asked the important question:

''I just want to know...before we continue...'' she said. ''just one thing...''

Jack knew what was coming.

''Is he back?'' Martha asked. ''Is the Master really back?''

Martha unknowingly wandered into a puddle of dried blood. Her eyes followed the trail of blood to a dark corner of the platform where a team of police investigators and doctors were huddled together around a specific, large object. Assigned police photographers were taking pictures of every single little detail on the platform. Blood, hair, water, everything.

''What's that?'' Martha asked.

Jack sighed: ''Are you sure you want to know?''

Seeing the blood on the floor, Martha gathered her courage and said: ''Yes.''

''It's messy, and you'll definitely lose your appetite.''

''I'm fine.'' Martha said. ''I'm a doctor. I can handle this.''

She approached the dark corner with Jack in her wake.

Pictures of autopsies and memories of surgeory flashed in front of her eyes, preparing her for what she was about to see, building up tension she did not want to feel.

As Martha looked down at the body of the young, murdered man, she definitely did not feel hungry anymore. The breakfast she ate long ago seemed to climb up her throat as the horrific smells of the corpse entered her nose.

Quickly she covered her mouth and nose, forcing herself to keep on watching the murdered man. No, not murdered.

The word Martha was looking for was slaughtered.

''He was brutally stabbed multiple times in various points in his body,'' Jack said. ''...and afterwards the murderer tried to hide the body in a large pile of dead leaves.''

Indeed Martha saw the bed of leaves the dead man was lying on.

Martha turned away and Jack did the same. ''How could he be back?'' Martha asked shocked. ''How?'' Jack did not, and could not, answer that question.

Martha rubbed her fingers across her face before she took a deep breath and shook her head.

''Why did he do this?'' Martha asked professionally, knowing that there was no other way of handling this crisis but to stay focused on the present. ''Why would he kill this innocent man?'' Jack sighed as he began to look into the distance, across the platforms and into the city.

''The easiest answer would be, because he enjoys it.'' Jack answered. ''Because he's a crazy lunatic and a psychopath, but I don't think that was the case here.''

Martha turned around to look at Jack. ''Then why did he really do it?'' she asked.

''Revenge.'' Jack said.

* * *

''LET ME OUT OF HERE!'' Owen yelled at his former comrades, attacking the door and walls of his cell with a violent rage.

Martha couldn't believe what she was seeing, and didn't understand why a human was being imprisoned in a cage like an animal, beside animals as well.

Strange-looking monsters sat silently growling in the cells beside Owen's, gazing upon the new arrival with a strange curiosity, yet a fearful caution.

One of the Weevils started howling.

''What the hell is this?'' Martha said. ''Let him out!''

''We can't.'' Ianto said, holding Martha back.

''Why not?'' Martha asked.

''We're not allowed to.'' Ianto said.

''Is this it, Jack?'' Owen cried. ''Have you begun to replace me already, with her?''

''I'm not your replacement.'' Martha said.

It didn't take them long to drive to Cardiff, where Martha returned to the place where she and the Doctor once said goodbye to Jack Harkness.

Now she had entered the Torchwood headquarters. She's even met their pet pterodactyl.

Everyone, except Jack was surprised to see Martha unimpressed to see the flying dinosaur living amongst them alive and well.

The lights flickered and the air in the hub's brig was filled with dust.

''Don't get too close to the Weevil-cages.'' Jack whispered into Martha's ears.

''Are you going to let me out or what?'' Owen said.

Gwen was biting on her nails, Ianto was remarkably silent and strong, almost like a soldier awaiting orders, and Tosh swallowed and said nothing.

''No, Owen.'' Jack said, folding his arms together. ''You deserve this.''

''What?'' Owen cried, unable to believe the captain's words.

''You killed an innocent woman...'' Jack said.

''She wasn't innocent!'' Owen cried. ''You said so yourself she was his accomplice! She was the one we were looking for in the first place!''

''Our priorities changed.'' Jack said. ''You didn't obey orders, you shot a woman, his wife...and now an innocent man must pay the price for your mistake!''

''I am not responsible for that man's death!'' Owen cried.

''You are.'' Jack said. ''And you will stay in here until you realise that.''

Owen freaked out, exploding in rage.

''You can't do this!'' he yelled. ''You can't let him do this! Gwen? Gwen, open this door. Gwen, let me out! Ianto? Stop him! Stop that lunatic before he fucking kills me!!''

''I'm sorry, Owen.'' Ianto said. ''I can't.''

All three of them still felt guilty for betraying Jack, killing Jack and opening the Rift on Owen's command.

He was the one who got them into that trouble. He was the one who convinced them into taking Bilis Manger's bait and almost destroying the world if Jack didn't turn out to be immortal and able to slay Abaddon.

Someone had to pay the price for that fiasco, and for those lives that were lost in that battle of life and death.

And finally somebody did.

Owen would be punished for his actions. If he liked it or not. If he deserved it, or not.


	7. The Man in the Doorway

Earlier that day, when the sun had not yet risen... When the day had barely begun, yet the cold wind still ruled... A man and a woman were struggling to move on, walking through streets without end whilst blood kept on flowing, dripping on to the ground, almost leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for their hunters to follow.

Yet the Master did not care.

He pushed, pulled and carried his wife through the seemingly endless night, past sad willow-trees and cold, metal fences. Past large, empty warehouses and sleeping factories. Past grey walls of stone, sprayed with red graffiti. Past broken bicycles and parked cars without windows or wheels; the vehicles were stripped of their dignity a long time ago. Now they were but skeletons. Ghosts of what they once were. A shell of what they used to be.

The drumming in his mind would not stop. The sound was so loud it seemed to be deafening him, yet his ears never stopped working. Blood rushed through his veins as the drumming sent shockwaves throughout every cell of his body. In this unknown world, the Master sought salvation and a way out. In this cold, starless night, the Master realised that this was the most dreadful moment of his life. He was helpless in the dark. There was no way out. No means of escape. No comfort, no security. Only fear and death to accompany them through the darkness.

The Master could feel death's piercing glare searching for them in this endless night, and he could only hope the dense fog would cloud its eyes as well. Then, as the Master turned into the street on his left, big neon lights pierced the dense fog, almost beckoning him to follow. Covered in blood and dirt, the Master carried Lucy towards the lights. The lights seemed to be coming from a building. As the Master approached it, he looked up at the big, green letters, vertically placed at the side of the building. He had read the sign from a distance, but nevertheless he glanced at the big lights a second time.

It read: THE ATREUS HOTEL.

* * *

With a vicious, bloody fist, the Master pounded the door of the hotel, echoing the rhythm only he could hear, almost playing along with the insane symphony. The black door was stained by the Master's hands. Drops of blood were dripping on to the pavement. A light was turned on inside the hotel. The Master could see the light shine out of the window, above. The green light of the neon-light was giving him a headache. The electric radiation the big, green words were emitting as they shined brightly in this starless night was powerful and nauseating. ''She's dying!'' the Master cried. ''Open this door!'' 

The Master's teeth were clenched together, but he quickly closed his mouth. Lucy was paler than ever. She seemed to glow unnaturally white in the everlasting darkness, as her skin was reflecting the green glow of the neon-lights. If the Master had said she was dead, they would have believed him, but she wasn't dead. Her heart was beating still, and her lifeless hand was still holding on tight to the Master's hand. Never letting go. ''Open this door at once!'' the Master yelled.

Insecure eyes looked through the doorway at the man who was shouting at the night, as the door-knob was turned and the door slowly opened. ''We're closed.'' the kid said. An evil light shined in the Master's eyes as the smell of the boy's fear reached his nose. ''I don't care.'' said the Master. ''And she doesn't care either, do you darling?'' He leaned forward a bit so that unconscious Lucy would wobble into the boy's sight. With his right hand the Master grabbed Lucy's face and shook it. ''See?'' the Master said. ''Now let us in!'' The young boy backed away as the Master pushed the door open. The door crashed against the wall loudly as the intimidating and violent visitor stepped into the hallway.

''Dad!'' the boy cried. The Master partially closed his eyes and curled his lip in an angry and mocking way of showing his curiosity. ''Dad!'' ''What the hell is going on here?'' the boy's dad cried as he walked down the staircase wearing a bath-robe and a pair of woollen, pink slippers. As he walked across the wooden floor, the wooden boards creaked. His hands brushed against the exotic plant which stood next to a dresser in the hallway. ''Didn't I tell you not to let them in?!'' the manager went on. ''We're closed this time of night!'' ''A ghostly time indeed for visitors.'' the Master said. ''But what kind of a hotel would you be running if you didn't let your guests actually enter?!!'' The boy subtly hid behind his father. ''What kind of a human being would you be if you would refuse to help save someone's life!'' the Master continued. ''Look at her, you fools, she is dying!''

''Bill, why are you all shouting?'' a woman said who climbed down the stairs after her husband. ''It's the middle of the night!'' ''Go to a hospital! Not a hotel!'' Bill the manager said. ''Besides, we're full! No more rooms are available!'' ''No more negotiating.'' the Master simply said as he let go of Lucy's hand and dropped her on to the ground. ''Either you help me, or she dies right here, on your cheap and dusty carpet.''

The Master's face was partially hidden in the shadow. The light in the hallway wasn't strong enough to pierce the darkness entirely. ''Your choice.'' the Master added. ''Carpets can be replaced.'' Bill said tough. The Master tilted his head. He seemed slightly amused by that response.

''Will this convince you then?'' he said, before he reached into his pockets and pulled out his wallet. With two fingers and one precise motion he took out some money and threw it on the ground beside Lucy. The manager avoided touching Lucy as he snatched the money from the ground, only once looking away from the Master as he did so. ''That'll do.'' Bill said as he counted it, smiling horribly as he faked kindness. ''For now.'''

''For now.'' the Master repeated, half mocking him.

'Help her up, son.'' the manager said, as he hid the money in the pockets of his robe. ''I take it you don't want us calling an ambulance?'' The manager's wife seemed appalled and disturbed by the complete nonchalance of her husband's words. How he took the money and agreed to take care of these mysterious strangers, without informing the authorities. But in the end she shook her head and returned upstairs, where her comfortable bed was waiting for her still. The Master couldn't help but smile, for he had been utterly and completely right as usual. This man was a shady, little hotel-manager who wouldn't hesitate to do some dodgy and illegal work, or help a fugitive ad murderer in need. Money and loyalty to this man basically meant the same thing.

He would be useful to the Master's plan, for now. However, the Master would not feel any remorse whatsoever in getting rid of him when the time would come when he would not require his services any longer...

* * *

Two hours before Martha Jones would awaken from her dreams Lucy Saxon opened her eyes. Pale, fresh light of the newborn day was shining through the window, and as Lucy glanced at the window she could see nothing but the Master's silhouette. The Master folded his arms as he gazed at the world outside. He slightly puckered his lips and frowned as his mind wandered off into strange directions. He had his eyes partially closed as he protected his eyes from the approaching dawn, and he tapped subtly and gently with his fingers against his own white sleeve and arm. Outside, birds were flying majestically through the air. Elegantly and arrogantly they defied the winds with their beautiful white wings. The Master's mind was miraculeously quiet, almost a void of silence. Like the orchestra of drums in his mind had suddenly ended, and they now were awaiting applause. 

"It's 9 o'clock." the Master said, glancing over his shoulder at the weakened woman in the bed with the sheats of red silk.

Lucy looked around the room and pushed the bed's curtains out of her way. With that motion she felt her own weakness, and the pain in her stomach reminded her of a gunshot in a train and blood. Lots of blood. "That wasn't the question I had in mind.'' said Lucy, brushing the sheets on her bed until it was all flat and the same. The Master smiled.

There were a lot of mirrors in this room. One small one on top of the dresser next to her bed. And more on the walls. A whithered plant stood in the corner, seeming to slowly turn into ash as its leaves reached for the floor in a sad and lonely state, for it hadn't been taken care of for a long time.

"You saved me." Lucy said, glancing away from the plant and towards the Master's silhouette.

A car alarm was ringing in the distance. Stray dogs were barking at stray cats in streets unknown. And an old newspaper seemed to float across the street, carried by the wind into directions unknown.

The Master stood beside the round window, wearing his still bloodstained white shirt, only without the familiar black tie. He unfolded his arms as he subtly turned around to look at his companion. He started to examine his wrists, hands and fingers, with precise, yet rough motions, without ever glancing away once from Lucy's eyes. ''There was a moment when I thought the opposite.'' the Master said. ''But you live to witness the future after all.'' ''I've seen the future.'' Lucy replied. ''And I don't care for it.'' The Master approached Lucy with subtle steps, as if he was holding back strength. As if he was carrying an enormous weight on his shoulders which he couldn't wait to get rid of. ''It's the here and now I care for.'' said Lucy. ''That is all I want.'' Cold light reflected on the Master's kind face. With one finger he comforted the recovering Lucy, and he brushed through her golden, blonde hair with gentle ease.

''Clever girl.'' the Master whispered amused.

* * *

Several hours earlier in the dark night, the Master was crying orders at his newfound servants. He had convinced them he could save her life. He and he alone. 

Bill and his son had carried Lucy's lifeless body into the shed, where none of the guests' sleep would be disturbed, because no-one would be able to hear them in there. "I tell you what I want." the Master remembered himself saying to the manager's son. "You obey. Is that clear, boy?" And he would only nod curtly with his frightened face. In the shed, many objects were mounted on the walls, as if displayed proudly in the uncomfortably small cabin. Pitchforks, shovels, drill-engines, pick-axes, a sledge-hammer and even a shotgun could be seen, and a bike was hanging from the ceiling, yet it was shoved in the upper corner of the shed.

''Get me some tweezers, and...'' the Master said, as he closed his eyes and thought of the things he was going to need. ''...a ball of thread... And a needle!'' the Master cried. ''Run boy! Run!'' The Master remembered how he removed Lucy's coat and shirt and scarf to get some access to the wound. Then he removed his own scarf which he had tied around the wound to apply pressure. As he saw the pale, clear and soft, bloodied skin in front of him, he could see that it had worked, for the wound had stopped bleeding. Yet the bullet was still inside her body, damaging her organs and vital functions.

''You!'' the Master said. ''Mister Manager! Get me some plastic gloves, preferable white, and a big white coat!'' Bill's lip curled in frustration, and he clenched his fist, yet he froze as he was confused by the Master's words. ''No?'' the Master said. ''No white coat?'' As Bill professionally handed the Master some rubber green gloves from a dirty, old, metal bucket, the Master accidentally dropped a small, bloodied knife on the floor, which he quickly grabbed before anyone would spot it. The Master defiantly gazed into Bill's eyes and ignored the knife he had just dropped as if it had never happened. ''I don't like white coats anyway.'' the Master spoke. ''I prefer black.'' The boy entered carrying the items the Master ordered him to get. And all Bill the manager was trying to think of was the money he had in his pocket, and more which he was sure to be getting later.

''Doctors are lousy dressers.'' the Master spoke as he grabbed what he needed and turned his attention to the dying Lucy. ''I, on the other hand, am dressed to kill!''

* * *

Cold light reflected upon his face, through the window, as the Master brushed his fingers against the white buttons on his shirt. Then he poked gently with his finger through the small hole in his shirt, making round motions as if he was measuring the size of the shirt's wound, where the bullet once penetrated. Now Lucy had a similar wound. The Master's hand slowly touched the hole in her shirt, and the scar on her soft skin, tickling Lucy until she started to smile. 

''You were inside of me.'' Lucy said with a gleam of laughter in her eye. Her mouth curled into an almost sadistic smile, twisted, yet hysterical. ''Was I?'' the Master said to her.''Yes.'' Lucy replied amused. The Master couldn't help but smile. Lucy always did have a twisted sense of humour.

''I might have poked around a bit once or twice.'' the Master said, moving his face closer to the wounded princess. The Master kissed Lucy's pale lips and brushed through her blond hair as he gazed deep into her wounded eyes. ''Thank you.'' Lucy whispered to him, but the Master merely smiled as he removed his hand from her hair.

Lucy did not see his wavering eyes. She did not see how the first drops of sweat started forming on his forehead and how his dry lips curled into a fake smile.

''My handsome saviour.'' Lucy said, before she grasped for her head in a dizzy confusion, smiling as she tried to act normal. As she said it, the sound of someone playing loudly on a piano penetrated their room. It was coming from the room next to them.

''You!'' the Master yelled as he suddenly got up. ''Stop it!!''

He started banging on the fragile wall, unintentionally making a mirror fall from the wall and shatter as it fell on the ground. ''Now!'' But the pianist in the room next to him wouldn't stop. ''This man has been playing that awful piano the entire night.'' the Master explained. ''And he is driving me insane!'' He started to attack the wall again, until Lucy grabbed his hand. It didn't stop him, for he went on for at least another punch or three, but in the end his anger faded away, as Lucy knew it would. ''Let's turn on the television.'' Lucy said, and the Master's fist loosened. ''Please.''

There was no remote. The Master had to personally walk to the television and press the unreachable, tiny buttons at the bottom of the enormous, black box, which seem to come directly from the '80's. As the familiar high-pitched frequency shrieked silently into their ears and the image appeared on the screen, the Master jumped on the bed next to Lucy, laying his right leg on top of the other as he folded his arms behind his head, like a human pillow.

And Lucy smiled happily, reminded of how things were like two years ago, when the Master had appeared into her life for the first time. Lucy watched television without caring what she was watching, and as the sounds of the pianist in the next room faded into the background Lucy slowly leaned towards the Master and laid his head against his shoulder.

As the sunlight grew brighter as it entered through the window, and the _Tweenies_ on the television started dancing and the Master chuckled, Lucy sighed blissfully, knowing that this was a moment she had to cherish and enjoy. Capture and save. For in the life of two people on the run, these moments were very, very rare.

* * *

As the day grew older and the light grew brighter, the unusual couple spent their entire morning in bed. 

Somehow Lucy started to feel safe again. She slowly let her guard down as she absorbed the Master's warmth as she cuddled even closer against him. That was until the door suddenly opened up and a strange man carrying a plate of food in his hands entered the unstable room, blocking their sight of the television as he yelled: ''Roomservice!'' The Master immediately sat upright in bed. Bill slammed the door open and the door hit the wall. The shock made a painting slip from its place and fall on to the ground.

''You're late.'' the Master snapped intentionally, as he stood up from the bed and faced Bill.The Master intentionally raised his voice to show this manager he was in control of this conversation, and not the other way around. But Bill wasn't going to surrender so easily to the Master's will.

''Well, tough,'' he said. ''for you're not getting any food anyway. Unless you're paying for it?'' The Master said nothing. He only clenched his fists and jaws as he gazed upon the manager. ''This is for the lovely lady.'' Bill said as he showed the plate of food to Lucy, yet he never looked away from the Master, standing beside the bed. ''We agreed to save her life, remember? You paid me to help her live, no?'' Lucy glanced confused at the Master, wondering what deal he had made with this man. ''That is why I emptied this room for you and kicked out the old guests to make room for new guests. You.'' Bill continued with a horrid smile. He placed the plate on Lucy's lap. On it stood a plastic cup, containing milk, a toasted sandwich and a luscious red apple, which Lucy immediately started eating. ''I'm glad you like it.'' Bill said to her, ignoring the Master's subtle, yet vicious glare.

''But I'm afraid this is where my services end.'' Bill continued. ''You paid handsomely for help and accommodation, but to remain here any longer, I'm afraid I must insist that you must pay me again. No money, no stay. That's my motto.''

''You aren't going to kick us out right away, are you?'' Lucy asked after swallowing a bite from the apple and wiping her mouth clean. ''The corpse speaks.'' Bill said to the Master, almost expecting him to laugh along with him. ''You can't evict us.'' Lucy spoke. ''I'm weak. I can barely eat, let alone walk!'' The look in Bill's eyes was that of someone who didn't care, yet the manager hesitated to pass verdict. ''Look at her.'' the Master said. ''Do you not know mercy?'' The Master faked emotion, which he could do so well, and his plea convinced Bill to spare Lucy's life. For now. ''You may stay.'' Bill said. ''However, if you may excuse me for a moment, miss, I'd like to have a word with your boyfriend...''

''He's my husband.'' Lucy replied strongly.

''Whatever.'' Bill said.

Bill ignored her final cry and waved at the Master to follow him into the hallway. Before the door closed, the Master glanced quickly at his manipulative wife, before Bill's brutal hands grabbed him and pulled him closer to a cloud of seriously, bad breath. ''I'm giving you three hours to vacate your suite, you got that?'' Bill said.

''You call that a suite?'' the Master replied.

''Yes, I do.'' Bill snapped. ''And without at least twice the amount of money you gave me last time, you won't be the one who's gonna spend the night there.'' The Master couldn't hold his breath any longer. As he gasped for air he turned his face away from Bill's bad breath. ''You think you're funny, don't you?'' Bill said. 'But you're not.'' The Master couldn't help but smile.

''I know who you are.'' Bill went on.

''Oh, really?'' the Master said, looking straight into the manager's eyes.

''Yeah, I do. I'm not stupid you know.'' Bill said.

''Well, you could've fooled me.'' the Master replied, after a short pause.

''Shut up!'' Bill yelled, pointing his violent, big finger at the Master's face.

The pianist kept on playing loudly and annoyingly in the background, never giving the impression that he would ever stop.

''You're on the run from the police.'' Bill spoke. ''That explains the bullet in your girlfriend's guts! That's why you came here. That's why you wouldn't let me phone an ambulance!''

''She's my wife.'' the Master corrected.

Bill retracted his finger, turning his hand into a soft fist which he slowly raised and then lowered.

''You don't want to be noticed. You don't want to be caught.'' Bill continued.

His horrid face formed a cruel smile.

''One small phone-call could change a lot, you know.''

The Master did not reply to Bill's questioning glare, who so eagerly wanted to know what was in his opponents head at that moment. ''So you pay me that money, and I'll let you stay.'' Bill said. ''Ain't that a fair deal, or what?'' Still the Master said nothing.

''Three hours.'' Bill said as he straightened his back. He had to bend over a little to look straight into the Master's eyes, as he was a bit taller than him. He smiled at the Master and almost gently placed his hand on his shoulder, in a sign of faked kindness or respect, before he walked away through the corridor, towards the stairs. The pianist kept playing in the background, until Bill pounded the door with a violent thrust, yelling: ''Shut the fuck up!'' This only interrupted his walk for a mere second, but it managed to end the pianist's noise. The Master watched as Bill turned around a corner and disappeared down a staircase, and only then did the Master reach for the doorknob and enter his room again.

* * *

''What did he say?'' Lucy asked when as the Master closed the door behind him. 

The Master didn't answer her. He only walked towards the window and moved away the curtains they had closed not so long ago. The light which now penetrated their comfortable darkness was blinding him, but the Master did not care. ''Harry?'' Lucy asked, as she sat up straight in the bed. She tried to reach him, but her painful wound would not let her. At the Master's feet lay a pack of cigarettes Bill must've dropped when he entered. Curious, the Master picked it up, only to stick it in his pocket when he noticed the painting which had fallen from the wall. ''Harry, what's going on?''

Lucy did not know why he was ignoring her.

* * *

The television was still pouring images into the room, showing two newsreaders behind a big, white desk as they discussed an important incident which occurred not so long ago, not so far away... 

_''The following footage you are about to see was filmed by a man with his mobile phone, before he posted it on Youtube a little while ago. The footage, although badly filmed with bad quality, clearly displays how the mysterious man and woman are chased by a group of four people.''_

* * *

The Master picked the painting up from the ground and examined its dusty surface. In the painting a cute, golden puppy was painted, in front of a brightly coloured, beautiful sky. Yet in its mouth, the dog held a bloody finger, the last remains of a living person. The Master tilted his head to the side as he gazed at the painting in awe for at least a second or two. His eyes widened as he examined the painting, intrigued by its concept and creation, as he followed the movements of the brush on the canvas, which he pictured in his mind. Then he hung it perfectly in its original place, without ever looking at it again.

* * *

_''It was Harold Saxon.'' _a witness said to the interviewer on TV. _''I am certain of it.''_

_''I don't know, really.'' _a different witness said. _''I don't think so, it could be, but I could be wrong..''_

_''Definitely. I saw him. I saw him right there.'' _another witness said as he pointed at a particular spot in the station.

* * *

Lucy pushed the sheets away as she tried to get up from the bed, unsuccessfully. The pain spread through her body as cold sweat took over her senses. ''Harry, lift me up. I want to get out.'' Lucy said, but the Master would not listen. ''Harry? Harry!'' 

The Master didn't even look at her once as he walked out the door and slammed it shut with a loud and violent motion.

* * *

The image on the television zoomed in on a freeze frame of the Master: a clear image. 

A moment where his face is almost clearly seen through the mist of bad quality.

_''Harold Saxon lives!''_ another witness cried.

* * *

The drums echoed in the distance. So far away, yet so close. 

One step would rid him of all his troubles. One step and he would disappear forever. Into the heart of the wastelands of primitive Earth. No-one would find him.

The Master opened the door of the hotel and gazed out at the world.

Cold wind touched his face, almost welcoming him, beckoning him to come. To run.

The Master smiled, already tasting the powerful feeling of freedom on his lips.

He could leave Lucy behind. He could leave Bill behind. He could leave that dreadful pianist behind. The withering walls. The dying plants. The creaking floors. The dusty air.

Everything.

This entire dreadful, disgusting place.

The money. The violence. The fear and loathing and lies and love.

Oh, the drums were approaching. They were coming.

The Master's entire body was aching, trembling in fear and pain.

Nothing could stop the drums.

Nothing.

''Will it stop, Doctor?'' he had once asked. ''The drumming. Will it stop?''

An answer he so eagerly sought.

Would it ever stop?

The Master yelled.

Not even death could stop it! It only made it stronger! Louder than before!

Making his body ache and tremble!

As the Master stepped outside, his entire body began to shiver!

No, not shiver.

Burn.

He screamed in agony as the fire took hold of his mind, forever burning, forever drumming.

Drumming.

''AAAHHH!!''

The Master staggered back inside the hotel, almost crawling on his hands and feet as he tried to regain his senses.

The universe was out there, yet he could not reach it. There were planets. Magnificent planets.

Species. Countless species, more than there were stars. Axons and Daleks and the bloody lot.

Yet he could not join them.

He was stuck in the lowest of the lowest. The most dreadful place on Earth. The last place he'd never wanted to end up in.

The one place he was probably destined for.

For he was now imprisoned. Unable to leave. Unable to run.

He had willingly entered the place the Doctor planned for him.

A cage.

''No!'' the Master cried. ''Let me out!''

He refused to let the Doctor win, but the drumming in his mind would not let him free.

There was nowhere else to go but back.

The Master remained in the doorway of the hotel for a while, gazing outside at freedom as he pounded the wall with his hand.

His tongue scratched the surface of his teeth as he furiously looked at the stars, as if he could almost see the Doctor gazing back at him.

''So be it.'' the Master whispered, before he turned back into the darkness of the hotel, reluctantly deciding to seek Bill in order to pay him what he wants.

And as the cursed man walked away, the door of the hotel was closed shut by the soft wind.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

''Harry?'' Lucy whispered half awake. ''Is that you?''

''Sshh...'' the Master whispered. ''It's me.''

''My beautiful saviour.'' Lucy jokingly added with a smile, without ever opening her eyes. The Master had turned off the television and shut the curtains, before he took off his shoes and gently lied down beside Lucy in the bed. "I'm tired.'' Lucy said. ''So tired.''

''Then sleep.'' the Master said.

Lucy smiled as she pushed her head deeper into the cushions, where her mind would slowly fade away from reality. The Master brushed his hand across her body, lying comfortably and warm under a thick, red sheet. Then he touched her cold cheek lovingly and kissed her shoulder, before he covered it up with the sheets.

''Sleep.'' he whispered to his wife.

The carcass of Lucy's apple lay motionless on the floor beside the bed. The Master gazed upon Lucy's back as he lay beside her. The Master stayed by her side even when Lucy finally fell asleep. His calculating eyes watched how her chest slowly went up and down as she breathed in and out. Another hour was lost as the Master gazed at his wife, and finally he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

Gently.

When the Master finally spoke again, his words pierced a dusty silence.

''My faithful Lucy.'' he spoke. ''My beautiful wife.''

He sighed.

''How I wish you were dead.''


	8. The Ice Queen

**Author's notes:**

**This was written before I ever saw 'Reset', the episode of the second series of Torchwood in which Martha Jones visits the team. I wrote this without knowing that canonically she would have joined UNIT by then, so no mention of Martha's involvement with UNIT will be made in this story.**

Six Months Earlier

The cold had penetrated every single cell of their bodies. With their big boots they climbed the vast hills of rock and snow. Both Ianto and Toshiko could feel the eyes of the giant, white mountain pierce the backs of their heads. ''Hold on!'' Ianto cried as Toshiko slipped through the snow, before almost falling down on his face himself. With his gloved hands he pushed himself upright. Quickly he looked back to see how Tosh was doing. The blizzard was growing stronger. The snow which danced through the air at incredible speeds almost darkened the big, white and freezing sun.

''Take my hand!'' Ianto said with shivering, blue lips. They both struggled through the snow, going slowly downhill to the place where it seemed the wind was coming from. The wind kept pushing them in the opposite direction. They tried not to look down, but sometimes they couldn't help but do just that.

The Himalayas did not treat Torchwood kindly. It almost felt like they weren't welcome there. As if the mountains themselves were conspiring to drive the team away.

''The camp can't be that far away.'' Toshiko said, wiping the snow off her buzzing scanner. Warm sweat covered their bodies beneath the many layers of thick clothing, yet the incredible cold dominated the air, blowing freezing wind into their faces. They tried to tighten their hoods around their entire head, but if pulled tighter they wouldn't be able to see. Not that they would care, because the pressure on their heads would be enough to make their blood vessels explode.

''Ianto!'' Toshiko cried as he seemed to collapse on one knee. He squeezed her hand as a sign of life, and hope.

''Come on!'' Ianto said. ''We're almost there!'' Toshiko gazed at her scanner and sadly discovered that Ianto was wrong.

Toshiko took another step towards the white horizon, only to discover her foot to be stuck in the snow. Ianto turned around to find Tosh desperately pulling her leg, dropping her scanner in a moment of anger.

Neither of them knew whether it was because of the scanner falling upon the ground that the layer of snow finally gave in, the final, last drop the bucket could not handle and so it ran over, because a second later it would collapse: the layer of snow dropped 4 metres, taking Toshiko along for the ride, down into the icy gap.

She fell painfully upon a layer of ice.

She was lucky.

''Tosh!'' Ianto cried.

She cried in anguish, feeling an incredible pain shoot though her right leg when she tried to move it. ''Tosh!'' Ianto cried. ''Are you all right?!''

Ianto could barely see through his frozen glasses as he crouched down with his thick clothing on the cold ground at the edge of the opening. Underneath the snow there had been a glacier, but it had sadly molten away, leaving nothing but cold air behind. ''I'm fine...I think.'' Toshiko said, feeling somewhat shaky, but she sustained no severe injuries.

''Reach for my hand!'' Ianto cried as he tried to reach for her.

Toshiko got up from the ground and tried to jump, but even then she couldn't possibly reach for Ianto's hand. They tried and tried again, but there was no way Ianto could get Toshiko out of that gap.

''I'll get help!'' Ianto said, faced with no other alternative. ''I'll get the others! I'll get rope!''

''Ianto!'' Toshiko helplessly cried.

''I'll be back, Tosh!! I promise!'' Ianto yelled as he managed to push himself out of the snow and back up on his feet. ''I'll be back!'' he kept shouting as he ran through the snow towards the encampement in the frozen distance.

''I'll be back!''

* * *

Six months later

''Anything?'' asked Jack.

Martha examined the bloody corpse of the dead Samaritan finding nothing but bloody and fatal jabs, cuts and bruises, old scars and remnants of Rift Energy, only visible when examined with Torchwood's technology.

''His hands are covered with it.'' Toshiko said as he ran the device over the corpse for the third time.

Martha took off her now blood-stained, white gloves and threw them in the litter box.

''And?'' Jack asked, standing above the autopsy room, leaning with his arms on the railing as he gazed down at Martha below him, smiling. ''I was right wasn't I?''

''But how did you know that?'' Martha replied astonished. ''How did you know there were two types of blood on his hands, before I even examined him?''

''Well, I'm smarter than I look.'' Jack said.

''That's probably the blood of Lucy Saxon.'' Toshiko said, not even looking up when she said that.

She looked up in surprise on realising she had said that out loud.

She quickly walked away to deal with the results of the scanner.

''But...how'd you get your hands on all that technology?'' Martha asked. ''If we had that kind of technology in hospitals, we could save billions of lives.''

Jack smiled only slightly upon seeing her wild imagination and enthusiasm.

"It fell from the sky upon British soil." Jack explains. "Torchwood scavenges it and examines it, thoroughly if I may add, before we try to put it to a good use."

Martha raised an eyebrow.

''But Torchwood's technology is not for public use.'' Jack continued as he walked down the stairs towards Martha, who was taking off her white coat. ''And trust me, there's a good reason for that.''

They were chit-chatting whilst the murdered Sam Leonard Smith was lying next to them on the table with a white sheet over his naked, dead body.

Jack smiled at Martha, making the impression he wanted to say something. And he did, but not to her, but to Ianto.

''Ianto!'' Jack yelled, and Ianto loyally appeared in the doorway of the morgue, with his hands folded behind his back.

''Will you be so kind as to put this man's body in the morgue?'' Jack asked. ''Certainly.'' Ianto replied.

''Thanks.'' Jack said, winking at Ianto with a big smile, before turning his charming gaze at Martha again.

But she had disappeared; she had walked away, shaking her head and folding Owen's old white coat over the reiling of the stairs as she climbed up, passed Ianto (who curtly nodded when their eyes met) and entered the Hub again.

''She seems nice.'' Ianto said to Jack.

''No doubt about that.'' Jack said.

''By the way,'' Ianto said. ''U.N.I.T. called. Do you want me to call back?''

''You hung up on U.N.I.T.?'' Jack said as he almost raced up those stairs towards Ianto.

''No, I left them on hold.'' Ianto said, much to Jack's surprise and gratitude. ''They're waiting for you.''

Jack smiled relieved.

''What would I do without you?'' he finally said.

''You'd be helpless.'' Ianto said, never showing one wrinkle on his amused face.

Martha still couldn't believe she was actually standing there, several feet underground.

Her mind kept telling her to get a grip on herself, to get back perspective and don't let emotions overrun her. Something she had been telling herself over and over again, not so long ago, when there was nothing but the Doctor's words to guide her through the darkness and that year of hell.

She swallowed, folding her arms together as she gazed upon the water cascading down the side of the giant, glass sculpture and structure which stood at the centre of the Hub. Martha wondered what the Doctor would say if he saw her now, standing in the heart of Torchwood.

''Defending the Earth.'' she remembered the Doctor saying to Jack. ''…can't argue with that.''

Sparks were flying somewhere in the corner of the Hub, where wiring met water and equipment, in this old, abandoned station.

Martha tapped with her fingers on the pocket of her pants as she remembered the Doctor's smile, not realizing at that moment that her 5 month old cell phone was in that very same pocket.

''What are you smiling at?'' Jack asked her as he ended the conversation by closing the cell phone.

''Nothing…'' Martha said and she cleared her throat.

Toshiko and Gwen turned their chairs around to face Jack and Martha. ''Well, team.'' Jack said. ''Tell me what you got for me.''

''Well,'' Gwen started. ''The police got nothing. No match. No leads.''

''That was to be expected of them.'' Jack replied as Gwen put another Oreo in her mouth. ''Tosh, what do you got for me?"

''I've got a full profile of Lucy Maureen Saxon.'' she said. ''Where she went to school, where she had her first kiss, the address of her old driving-instructor, everything.''

''Excellent.'' Jack said.

''And we're all out of coffee.'' Ianto interrupted.

''Did you find anything that could help us?'' Jack said.

''There were some interesting paragraphs, but nothing much.''

Lucy's entire life was displayed on that screen, and Toshiko just scrolled it away, as if it was nothing.

Martha scratched her neck and then returned to her original position again. She folded her arms as she stood beside Jack as they read the entire profile.

''Wealthy parents,'' Toshiko summarized. ''Attended one of the best universities in England and graduated top of her class.''

''Bit of a snob, really.'' Gwen interrupted.

''She became Head of Staff at Archangel Network about two years ago.''

''Archangel Network?'' Jack said.

''There she came to be known as 'the Ice Queen'. Not the best nickname out there, but...''

''Completely useless...'' Jack said.

''Well, I wouldn't call it that.'' Toshiko said, adjusting the position of her glasses as she looked at her screen.

''You said this would help us find Harold Saxon, but instead we've only been wasting our time!'' Jack said somehow enraged.

''But this is a character sketch...'' Gwen said, defending Toshiko. ''It can help us understand how she thinks! It helps us get into her head!''

''Trust me, you don't want to get in her head, or Harold Saxon's...'' Jack said.

''Every minute we waste in here, increases the chances of people dying on the surface!''

Torchwood and Martha were speechless as they listened to Jack's speech.

''He's out there, probably laughing at us. He knows we're looking for him, and he knows how to remain hidden. No, Gwen, we don't have to get into their heads. We have to think ahead! Be one step ahead of him! We cannot afford more mistakes! Understand that if we make mistakes, people die. Time is wasted and people are murdered. Just like that man we have lying in our morgue right now.''

No-one was breathing. Everyone knew he was right.

''Now get back to work.'' Jack finished.

He turned around and entered his office.

''What...was that all about?'' Martha asked as she followed Jack.

Jack was rummaging around with the stuff on his desk: files and papers and strange tokens and artefacts which would look rather fine on a bookshelf.

''I was trying making a point.'' Jack simply answered.

He chucked the files in his drawer, after which a strange rumbling sound was heard, as if the drawer had been turned into a washing-machine. When Jack opened the drawer a second time, the files were gone.

''Well, make it again, 'cause I don't get it.'' Martha said.

''Well, you're not supposed to get it.'' Jack said, revealing a small metallic box which he took out of another drawer and carried towards his safe. ''And why's that?'' Martha asked.

The safe opened up and Jack carefully placed the box into the safe, before it automatically closed again after Jack touched some buttons on a keypad.

''Because you know what he's like.'' Jack said. ''You know what he's capable of, and you know what the world would be like if we hadn't stopped Harold Saxon before.''

''Yes, I know him. His real name. His real agenda.'' Martha said. ''But I don't know yours, Jack.''

Jack sighed, as he grabbed a stack of files from his desk and left his office.

''I'm here to do my job.'' Jack said, walking away, knowing that Martha was right behind him.

Gwen and Toshiko looked up to see them and tried to listen to their conversation as they walked past.

''What, defending the Earth?'' Martha asked, passing the game-corner and the doors which lead to the interrogation-room below

Next she followed Jack up the metal stairway to the board-room.

'Well, it says Britain in my job description,"Jack said, opening the glass door, "but I like to think I can stretch the rules a little bit and say yes. My job is to defend the Earth.''

''With whom?'' Martha asked, as he followed Jack inside.

Jack sighed and smiled, ending the argument with a solemn silence, meaning he wasn't going to say more.

''You're right, Jack.'' Martha said, as he watched Jack place the files on the table. ''You're absolutely right. We have to find the Master, but just... take my advice on this, okay? Friends can be rare, especially when you need them most.''

Martha felt awkward and uncomfortable giving Jack advice, but she had to. Yes, she didn't know him that long, but she could not keep herself silent after seeing how he dealt with his team.

''So it's best not to yell at them.'' Martha finished.

Jack laughed.

''I've lived for more than a hundred years,'' he said, ''but never has anyone dared to give me advice like that. I bet the Doctor's really proud of you.''

''He'd better be.'' Martha joked.

Jack folded his arms as he gazed with friendly eyes at Martha. Finally it seemed he was going to open up.

Martha had had her share of experiences with men who wouldn't open up.

''Martha, I love these people.'' Jack said. ''My team. They are amazing people. Every single one of them. And I know it sounds ridiculous, but I'd probably be dead without them.''

''That does sound ridiculous.'' Martha said. ''But I understand what you're saying.''

''But sometimes you have to be tough.'' Jack said. ''As a leader, I have to be the one who makes the tough decisions. I can't hesitate. I mustn't hesitate. Or show fear.''

''You maybe more than a hundred years old, Jack.'' Martha said. ''But you're still human.''

Jack couldn't help but smile again to this wise, little, lady.

''You know he's out there, Martha.'' Jack said. ''He may not be my responsibility, but Earth is. I'm going to defend this planet from aliens like him. Even if it takes my life.''

He joked again.

Mentioning his death reminded Martha of his life, and his possible future.

She couldn't help but picture the Face of Boe as she gazed into Jack's youthful eyes.

Then the moment was shattered by a cheesy ring tone, coming from Jack's pocket.

He reached for his phone and put it to his ear.

''Yeah?'' he simply said, and Martha realised that whoever called that number must know who they're calling.

Jack never removed the phone from his ear as he turned his back on Martha and revealed a remote from a place where there wasn't a remote before.

He turned on the huge screen in the board-room and swiftly searched through the channels, searching for whatever the right one, until he found it.

''Yes, I see it.'' Jack said to whoever he was talking to. ''Thanks.''

He closed the phone and put it back in his pocket as he watched the news and Martha stepped into his sight again.

''There's going to be a vote tomorrow.'' Jack explained to Martha as the images on the screen continued.

A female voice explained what was going to happen tomorrow as images of the Parliament were shown.

''Yes, I heard.'' Martha said. ''They're going to finally vote whether they will finally elect Gary Quentin as Prime Minister, am I right?''

''Almost.'' Jack said. ''They're going to vote whether they should elect Gary Quentin or if they will keep waiting for Harold Saxon to return...''

''I can't believe he's still Acting Prime Minister, and not Prime Minister.'' Martha said. ''The Americans elected President Dean A. Lack days after President Winters was killed.''

But then Martha realised something.

''So wait.'' she said. ''Harold Saxon can still return as Prime Minister? The Master-''

''The Master can become Prime Minister again.'' Jack interrupted. ''He can ruin this election, in fact he's been ruining it ever since he showed up. Every time his face hits the media, the politicians start questioning themselves…''

''But shouldn't they know by now that Harold Saxon was an alien who killed billions of innocent lives and who almost started a war with the rest of the universe. He destroyed the world! He controlled the minds of everyone on Earth!''

''For them, that never happened remember?'' Jack said. ''In this world, Harold Saxon never did those things. He's an innocent man. He brought the country together with promises of peace, prosperity and a first contact with a new alien species.''

''He is the alien!'' Martha said.

''They don't know that. And whatever we tell them, they don't want to listen.'' Jack said. ''The politicians are becoming bold. After the Sycorax, the Cybermen, the Daleks, and the Racnoss, they are no longer that willing to put their faith and lives into our hands.''

''You speak of 'we' and 'our', Jack.'' Martha asked. ''Who are you referring to?''

''Torchwood and U.N.I.T.'' Jack said.

''We're the ones who are going to make sure they vote right.''

Martha wondered whether one could undermine democracy like this. If they could break this rule, where would it end? Which rule would they break next?

But it was the Master they were talking about. They had to act.

He must not get that kind of power again.

''But he could ruin the vote, couldn't he?'' Martha said. ''He could give himself up! He'll be Prime Minister again!''

''No, he won't.'' Jack said. ''He wouldn't do that. Trust me.''

''Why not?'' Martha said. ''He could easily...''

''No.'' Jack said simply. ''Martha, without his Toclafane and most importantly, without his Archangel Network, the Master would almost be harmless...''

''If he wasn't an evil and brilliant psychopath, that is.'' Martha interrupted, but Jack wanted to continue.

''Without his gadgets to back him up, He'd be forced to do everything a real Prime Minister would have to do. All the boring little details and he'd have to pretend to love it.

He'd have to be a proper Prime Minister of Great Britain, and we both know he can never do that. He'd be in the public's eye all the time.

They decide his fate.

As Prime Minister, he'd be at the mercy of mankind...

And if he gets kicked out of office, then we know just where to find him.''

''Because then the entire country knows where he is.'' Martha added.

''Exactly.'' Jack finished.

The ball hit the ground and bounced off the wall with a soft thud before it gracefully landed in Owen's hand again. He repeated this simple motion without effort, over and over again, as he sat against the glass walls of his cell, breathing the dusty air which entered through the three small round holes in the glass door.

''I see you're keeping yourself busy.'' Gwen said, folding her arms as she leaned with her back against the wall. She looked at the imprisoned Owen with a sad, pitying yet amused smile.

''Oh, I'm sorry, miss, but the zoo is closing. If you want to watch the monkey dance in his cage, you'll have to come back tomorrow.'' Owen said angrily.

''Look, I'm sorry, all right?'' Gwen said. ''I should've defended you before. Jack's being an ass...''

''Then open the door.'' Owen interrupted.

''And so are you.'' Gwen added.

Owen squeezed the little red ball in his hands.

''If you weren't a part of our team, you'd have been arrested right now for attempting murder...'' Gwen said.

''If I wasn't part of this team, then I wouldn't have shot her in the first place.'' Owen replied. ''Besides, we've all done things, seen things, Jack can't give us an amnesia pill and dump us on the streets. We've spent our entire lives working for this cause, we can't be just pushed aside like this!''

''He fired you once before.'' Gwen said.

Owen violently threw the ball against the glass wall. The ball bounced all over the place, and the Weevils grew uneasy at the sound and sight of the red blur in Owen's cell.

''I'm telling you...'' Owen continued as he picked up the ball off the dusty ground. ''...it won't be long until you find yourselves in one of these cells. You only have to do one thing that upsets Jack, that doesn't belong in his little vision of Torchwood, and you'll find yourselves breathing through three little holes!''

''Now stop acting like you're the victim here, Owen.'' Gwen spoke. ''This is all you're own fault that you're in here. If Jack wanted you gone, he'd have fired you by now. He'd have spiked your drink and you'd be the happiest man on the planet, not knowing what happened the last three years.

''You know I'm right, Gwen.'' Owen said, not backing down.

''Don't blame this on Jack.'' Gwen spoke. ''You always blame Jack. He's only trying to do his job.''

''It's our job, not his. He's been gone for God knows how long, and now he just storms back in and reclaims his throne like nothing ever happened. But it did, Gwen. It did.''

''I know, Owen.'' Gwen said.

''He just comes and goes as he pleases, vanishing one moment and reappearing the next without one single explanation of where he'd gone. And all we get is a one-way ticket to the Himalayas as a reward. I call it a reward, cause it bloody hell wasn't a vacation!''

Owen freaked out.

''Jack's supposed to be our boss, but we know nothing about him! Nothing! He's lived for a hundred years, but we know nothing! And we're Torchwood, for fuck's sake. And that's saying something!''

Gwen said nothing, not knowing what to say.

''He said he found his doctor.'' Owen went on. ''His doctor...his doctor...what the hell does that mean?!''

''I don't know, Owen.'' Gwen said. ''I don't know...''

She left the cells and closed the door behind her, knowing fully well she was leaving Owen there to rot. But she couldn't disobey a direct order of Jack. Not just yet, anyway. She climbed the spiralling stairs upward into the Hub, thinking of what Owen had just told her. Jack was right in punishing Owen, wasn't he? He shot someone. Someone who could be dead by now. A human. Someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or was she?

Gwen rubbed her head, which started to hurt. There were still so many questions left unanswered. Gwen passed Ianto who was finishing his work, placing the corpse of the murdered Samaritan into an icy storage, and she wondered if they shouldn't return his body to his parents, or anyone who would like to mourn his passing. As Gwen entered the work-area, Toshiko looked up and briefly smiled as a welcoming sign. Gwen smiled back.

But then her smile faded when she saw Martha and Jack standing in the board-room above.

She could see their lips moving, but she couldn't hear what they were saying.

''We're stuck.'' Toshiko said. ''We found nothing. We examined everything at that crime-scene and it's left us with no results whatsoever. We've lost him.''

''Who the hell does he think he is?'' Gwen said frustrated as she sat down at her station.

''The Prime Minister.'' Toshiko replied.

''No, not him.'' Gwen said. ''JACK. What's he hiding? No, wait. What isn't he hiding? Who the hell is he?''

''He's our boss.'' Ianto spoke as he approached them. ''That's what.''

''I can't work like this.'' Gwen said. ''I need to know. I want to know.''

''Know what?'' Toshiko asked.

''Well...'' Gwen said, losing her rhythm as she searched for the right words.

''For starters, I want to know who she is.''

''Martha Jones?'' Ianto asked.

''Yes.'' Gwen said. ''I want to know who she is.''

''Toshiko?'' Ianto said, before putting his mug filled with tea to his lips in a nonchalant motion, never wiping that emotionless gaze of his face.

''I'm way ahead of you, Ianto.'' Toshiko said, typing fast as hell. ''It's amazing what you can find on Google these days.''

Gwen left her station to bend over Toshiko's shoulder as she gazed at her screen, which displayed the personal profile and data of Martha Jones.

''And?'' Gwen asked. ''Anything interesting?''

Tosh read through Martha's profile, yet her enthusiasm soon faded as she discovered:

''Nothing.'' she said.

''Nothing?'' Gwen asked. ''Nothing at all?''

Ianto stood behind them, listening to their conversation as he put down his mug on Gwen's desk. He placed his hands in his pockets as he gazed up at the board-room where Jack and Martha Jones were still talking.

''No, here's something.'' Tosh answered as she scrolled the page down. ''She's recently got her Degree in Medicine.''

''So?'' Gwen asked.

''Look at the name of the hospital she's working.'' Tosh replied.

Gwen leaned forward to read it. It seemed familiar, but she couldn't remember where she had read it before.

But then she remembered.

''That was the hospital which got transported away!'' she cried. ''About a year ago! It was gone for an entire day before it miraculously returned!''

''Precisely.'' Toshiko said as she clicked on a picture of the hospital after the incident.

In the picture an army of ambulances and police were all gathered around the hospital's entrance, coming to the aid of hundreds of people who'd been nearly suffocating to death during the hospital's visit to the moon.

Not long after Toshiko and Gwen started discussing this incident did they reach a dead end. They could not connect this strange incident to Jack, or to aliens, or Torchwood. Nor could they connect it to the man known as Prime Minister Harold Saxon. Nor did they find any mention of Martha Jones being involved in this situation, whatsoever. So they moved on.

''Look at her school records!'' Gwen said, yet Tosh merely shrugged.

''So? I've got better grades than her.'' she said.

''Wait!'' Tosh suddenly cried as she pointed at the screen. ''There! It says her sister, Tish Jones, worked for a scientist named 'Lazarus', just before his fatal experiment, and next she started working for...wait for it...Prime Minister Harold Saxon!''

''Well, we found the connection to Harold Saxon.'' Gwen said, looking up at Jack's office, where Martha was still talking to Jack. ''But how does it connect to her?''

''I don't know.'' Toshiko said.

Had they reached another dead end?

''We could just ask her.'' Ianto said who stood behind them, taking another sip of his coffee as he saw how Jack and Martha left the board-room and were coming down again.

''Jack, can I talk to you for a moment?'' Toshiko asked.

''Sure, Tosh.'' Jack said, approaching her casually as he removed his hands from his pockets and instead rubbed them together.

It was mildly cold in the Hub. A pterodactyl's cries could be heard in the distance above them, echoing against the white walls of the Hub, until it slowly faded away.

''I've had an idea involving the energy surges I picked up when Lucy Saxon first appeared above.'' Toshiko said, standing next to her chair and station. She leaned forward and pushed a button on her keyboard as Jack slowly leaned forward. ''And I thought...since you're the expert on that, I'd ask you for your opinion...''

''Show me.'' Jack said.

''I'm afraid we're all out of coffee today.'' Ianto said as he walked into the cosy Information Centre; a little shop which functioned as a cover for Torchwood 3's official entrance. ''That's all right.'' Martha said. ''Tea will do just fine, thank you.''

The large, round doors closed behind her, and Torchwood disappeared. Now it was like she was just standing in a kiosk, as a visitor, a guest, a customer, and not as if she was helping a highly classified and dangerous organisation to find a murdering, alien psychopath who had once ruled the world.

''Do you want something in particular, or...?'' Ianto asked.

''Surprise me.'' Martha said amused. She preferred this cosy kiosk to the dark and gloomy Hub she had just left.

Ianto poured some hot water into two paper cups and then gently dropped two tea-bags into it.

His face never showed any sign of a secret, or a lie. He was kind and friendly.

Martha could have never suspected him to be manipulating her, but he was doing just that.

He was ambushing her into a corner, using only a kind smile to push her in.

Toshiko would keep Jack busy, and Gwen would do the interrogation. She used to be a cop, so she's good at that.

And Ianto was good at this.

He smiled at Martha as he handed her the cup of tea.

''Careful.'' he said to her. ''It could be hot. You don't want to burn your lips.''

Martha took a careful zip from her tea.

''Hmmm...'' she said. ''Strawberry...''

''Is that what I think it is?'' Jack asked.

''These are the energy-signatures of your lost hand in a jar.'' Toshiko said. ''And these ones are your signature, and Lucy's.''

She pointed at the screen.

Toshiko paused briefly, allowing Jack to interrupt, but he didn't say anything, so she continued.

Her mind briefly wandered to Ianto and Gwen, who were about to close their trap they had set for Martha Jones.

''They are three distinct energy-signatures, all three similar, but all three completely different.'' Martha said. ''Lucy's signature matches that of the Rift.''

''And that's no surprise, seeing she absorbed that energy somehow directly from the Rift.'' Jack said. ''And she used it to resurrect her lover...''

Toshiko couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Resurrection?

''And this...your signature...also matches...yet it is so different...almost as if its the same species, yet a different creed...And the same goes for the hand's energy-signature...''

''Are you making another?'' Martha asked, seeing Ianto take another paper cup and filling it with hot water again. ''Are you thirsty?''

''No.'' Ianto said. ''This one's not for me.''

''Well, I'm not that thirsty anyway.'' Martha said. ''One cup of tea is just fine, thank you.''

''It's not for you either.'' Ianto said.

He closed the cabinet above his head and put the tea down on the counter, where another hand picked it up again.

Martha looked behind her and saw Gwen standing behind her.

''Thanks Ianto.'' she said as she lifted the cup towards her lips. ''Hello, Martha. Can I ask you a question?''

Martha swallowed her tea and looked her in the eyes.

''Sure.'' she said uncomfortably. She had been cornered behind the counter with Ianto and Gwen blocking her exit.

''How do you know Jack Harkness?'' Gwen asked. ''I mean...how did you meet him?''

Martha took a deep breath as she thought of that dark planet and that dark time, billions of years into the future, at the end of the universe...

How was she going to explain that?

''I was travelling...'' she said softly. ''And he was sort of...going along for the ride. He was kind of like a stowaway...''

''Sorry?'' Gwen asked.

''I thought he was dead, but then he suddenly came back to life...''

''What'd you mean by travelling?'' Gwen asked.

''I was thinking I could do a city-wide scan for possible concentrations of Rift-energy, like before.'' Toshiko said.

''…wouldn't work.'' Jack said. ''The energy must have faded away by now. You could still find traces of it, but not enough to clearly show it on the scan.''

''Yes, that's what I thought.'' Toshiko said. ''But I'm still curious...why is the concentration of energy so high around you?''

Jack smiled kindly.

''I was brought back to life.'' he said. ''I died, but I was resurrected.''

''How?'' Toshiko said.

''It's such a high form of science that it would seem like magic to you, but it isn't.'' Jack explained. ''Energy-particles filled my body and I was brought back to life. The only problem is...I was brought back forever.''

''Forever?''

''I can't die, Tosh.'' Jack said. ''You know that. I'm so full of energy I can't die. Ever. Hell, I can't even sleep.''

''You can't sleep?''

''I try, but it's just really hard, 'cause I never get tired...''

''Just...travelling...'' Martha said.

''With Jack?'' Gwen asked. ''Is that why he left?''

''No...'' Martha said, tapping the cold counter with her fingers. ''Look, I don't think I'm the one who should be telling you guys...''

''Well, Jack sure isn't telling, so you're all we got.'' Gwen said.

''Does the word 'Doctor' tell you anything?'' Ianto asked.

Martha stopped breathing.

''Of course, you are a doctor, but that's not what we're asking...''

''Wait...'' Gwen said. ''Are you Jack's doctor?''

''Guys...'' Martha said. ''I don't want to do this.''

''Martha...''

''You're making me uncomfortable!'' Martha spoke. ''You're cornering me! You're interrogating me like I'm some sort of suspect!''

''Martha, please...'' Gwen said.

''Just let me pass, all right?'' Martha said.

She walked towards them and Gwen and Ianto reluctantly let her through.

As Martha opened the big, round door, both Gwen and Ianto saw Jack standing on the other side, gazing right at them as he angrily folded his arms.

Ianto looked at the floor in humility and Gwen was shivering as she looked into Jack's eyes.

''Gwen, my office, now.'' were the only words Jack said, before he turned around and left.

Gwen followed him.

Jack only looked at her when she entered his office. He didn't say a word; he only sat there in his chair looking right at Gwen, which gave her goose bumps.

''Look, I only did this because of you.'' Gwen said, explaining her actions. She couldn't stand Jack's incriminating and angry glare, so she opened up. She came clean and confessed her sins.

''You've been gone, Jack. You left us! And now you come back here and act like nothing ever happened. But what I want to know is, where did you go Jack? Why did you leave us?''

Gwen had so much more to say, but it was impossible for her to think straight. Her heart was beating in her neck as she gazed at Jack defiantly, awaiting answers.

She was definitely not going to leave this office without some.

''Well?'' she asked.

Jack sat silently and completely still for a moment. He breathed slowly as he looked upon Gwen.

Then he stood up and walked towards his safe. He pressed some buttons and after some rumblings, the safe opened.

Gwen watched how Jack took out some strange, metallic container from the safe, before he closed it.

He sat down at his desk again as he put the container down on his desk and then he asked Gwen to approach.

''Open it.'' Jack said.

Gwen hesitated at first, but then she carefully grabbed the container from the desk and looked at it as she held it in her hands.

It was just a metal box. It did not seem special. In fact, quite the opposite, but Gwen realised that whatever lay inside had to be bloody magnificent if it had to answer all of her questions.

She looked at Jack before she slowly touched the lid and started to open it. With little strength she opened the box, revealing a small, long and shiny golden object inside it.

''What is it?'' Gwen asked. She took it out of the box and held it in her hands, cradling as if it were powerful and important, before she put down the box.

''It is a weapon.'' Jack answered and Gwen pointed it away from her face. ''Don't worry.'' Jack said. ''It can't harm you, well not in your hands anyway.''

''What do you mean?''

Jack took a deep breath before he started talking.

''It's a laser screwdriver. At least, that's how he called it. It has killed me many times.''

Gwen slowly put it back in the box, but she did not close the lid.

''It's got isomorphic controls, so it can only kill if its in the hands of its owner.''

''And who is that?'' Gwen asked.

''Harold Saxon,'' Jack said. ''also known as, the Master.''

Jack then told her everything what happened, leaving out the details.

He told Gwen how he found his doctor, travelling with Martha, how he was imprisoned by the Master and how Martha Jones and the Doctor saved the world.

Gwen was quite impressed.

''But he died, didn't he?'' Gwen said. ''Then how did he come back?''

''Evil always has a way of surviving somehow.'' Jack said wisely. ''And almost always because of our own mistakes...''

Gwen closed the metal box. She never wanted to touch that object ever again.

Six Months Earlier

Toshiko was freezing. She tried to climb out of the icy gap, but was still unable to reach the top. She tried to carve steps into the icy walls, but after a while she grew to tired and realised she was sweating too much. She stopped fearing dehydration and decided she would rest for a while. The storm was slightly calming down. It wasn't much, but the weather was definitely improving.

She decided to wait for Ianto, an d to trust in him.

He'd be back shortly, with help. She kept telling herself that over and over again, fearing she would die here. Alone.

Her blue, frozen lips were trembling as warm breath left her lungs to float through the cold air.

Snow touched her tongue and turned into drops of water.

Toshiko kept herself warm by sitting down and curling herself up to be as small as possible. She put her arms around her legs and pushed her knees against her ribs.

''Come on, Ianto.'' Toshiko said. ''Run.''

Then she heard a sound coming from above.

For a moment she thought she had imagined it, but shortly afterwards the sound appeared again.

''Ianto?'' Tosh cried, but there was no reply.

There it was again. It was louder this time, closer. She could hear it clearly this time. It sounded like an animal. Like the growl of an animal.

''Ianto?!'' Tosh cried in vain, knowing he wasn't nearby, and knowing fully well that things never get better, only worse.

The sound came closer and closer, as if it was just over the ledge above her. So close.

The animal was large. Tosh could hear it. This wasn't a sound a small animal could make.

And she knew very well that almost no animals could survive in this cold. And polar bears didn't live anywhere near the Himalayas.

She could see something move over the edge of the gap, right in front of her.

Toshiko was stuck in this gap, unable to run or hide.

Maybe this had been a trap. A trap set by this animal, this creature, this alien.

She had seen enough aliens to know that they were real.

And maybe their mission to the Himalayas had a real purpose after all.

The beast's howl made Toshiko jump in fright.

She pushed herself against the opposite wall of the gap, as far away from the animal as she could.

Toshiko wanted to cry for help, but she knew that she would only anger or alarm the beast.

She pounded the icy wall with her fist, not expecting to hear an unusual metal sound.

The wall wasn't ice. It was metal.

She attacked the metal wall desperately, trying to find any way of escaping the animal, realising that this unexpected wall could very well be just the thing that saves her life.

She discovered that the wall wasn't a wall.

It was a door.

She pushed and pushed, and shattered ice as she did so with her strength as adrenaline was being pumped through her veins.

The door opened, leading to a dark and unknown destination underneath the ice.

Toshiko hesitated, but then she turned around.

A gigantic, white and furry monster towered over her with large black claws attached to his large white arms.

She ran into the door and closed the door behind her, reaching for the electric torch in her frozen rucksack.

Her heart was beating wild. She couldn't control her breathing.

This scary, unknown place underneath the ice of the Himalayas wasn't where she expected to find herself when she decided to follow the unusual readings on her scanner.

In this strange, metal corridor she saw nothing that wasn't covered in snow and ice. The cold wasn't that bad underneath the ice, although it was still present.

Perhaps there was a way to the surface.

Perhaps she found some kind of secret base, created by humans, to analyze the mountain or perhaps this corridor was one of many corridors, part of an entire system of tunnels which lead underneath the mountains.

Perhaps she found some kind of strange, alien vessel buried underneath the snow.

She only hoped that Ianto wouldn't do anything stupid when he would discover Tosh to be missing. She also hoped that they wouldn't encounter the creature.

Or perhaps the creature knew of these tunnels. Perhaps it scared her in there on purpose.

Toshiko started walking through the corridor, hoping that there was light at the end of the tunnel...

But what she didn't know is that something underneath the ice had been awoken.

Something with hollow eyes and hollow hearts. Something which was about to find her. Something that knew exactly where she was.


	9. The Damsel in Distress

* * *

The dining room of the hotel was almost completely built out of wood and teak, creating a sort of tropical mood in this cold season. The tropical plants displayed in corners and nailed to the walls supported this, although they were beginning to decay. Someone had forgotten to water them today. You could smell it.

Delilah urged her son to approach the strange man who stood in the doorway of the dining room. He was half an hour early for lunch, but Jeremy was hesitant to tell this fact to this particular man. He gazed at Jeremy when he approached him, but even when the teenager stood right in front of him, the man would not speak a single word. Jeremy cleared his throat as he finally found the courage to speak.

''You're early,'' Jeremy said.

''I know,'' the man replied swiftly, yet perfectly calm.

Jeremy swallowed.

''You can come in if you like.'' Jeremy tried to be nice, but he was unable to hide his fear from this strange man.

The Master slowly entered. The wood below his feet creaked with every heavy step he took. His eyes analyzed everything in the room.

''Hello, mister,'' Delilah tried to say, but she was unable to remember his name, ''What did you say you're name was?''

''I didn't,'' the Master simply replied.

Jeremy continued placing menu's on the many wooden tables, but he couldn't help but look at the Master as he paced slowly around the dining room.

''Well,'' Delilah spoke hesitantly as she approached the Master. ''How's your wife doing?''

''She's fine,'' the Master spoke brief, almost angrily, as if he'd rather have her dead.

This response confused Delilah, so she merely smiled at the Master, not knowing what to say.

''Bill told me that you've travelled a long way to get here,'' Delilah finally said, ''Cardiff is a beautiful city, the capital of Wales it is, but if I may ask, did you come here for business or pleasure?''

The Master did not answer her.

There was a ceiling fan above their heads which would have spun around quickly in a warm summer season, blowing fresh air into their faces.

But now the ceiling fan hung there silently, unused and unnoticed, waiting for the winter season to pass.

The Master turned around and walked away, back towards the doorway through which he had entered.

''Where are you going?'' Jeremy asked.

The Master stopped and turned around.

''Why would you care?'' he said.

Jeremy found himself wanting to say something, but he was unable to, and so the Master left.

''What a strange, horrible man.'' Delilah said.

Jeremy said nothing.

* * *

His hands gripped the banister of the stairwell with a violent thrust, as he climbed up. He seemed excited, or rather eager to get to the next floor quickly. He skipped some steps as he climbed on. He seemed to jump from step to step, until his feet finally touched the blue carpet of the upper corridors. In the darkness it seemed dark blue, but whenever light touched its surface it seemed to be dyed in a beautiful silver shade.

The Master ignored the strange paintings on the walls in the empty spaces between the doors. The room numbers were accurately displayed on golden tiles beside the doors: room 103, room 105.

The Master walked slowly, tapping with the tops of his fingers against the other tops of his fingers.

Then he stopped, he sighed, and then he took a deep breath.

He looked around him, through the empty corridor which he had just walked through.

Then he looked in front of him again. His eyes gazed through the long empty corridor in front of him and the pale light which shined through a window at the end.

The Master put his back against the wall as he started to think.

His hands brushed the pale yellow wallpaper which once used to be white.

His fingers touched the pattern of flowers which a normal person would not be able to feel, but he could.

He gazed down the two corridors again, feeling the urge to spit, but he didn't give in.

The Master clenched his teeth together, unwilling to make a decision.

Truth is that he was bored; totally and utterly bored.

He could only think of his situation and the place he was in now. This dreadful place, where he couldn't stay any longer, yet he was unable to leave, forced to stay.

The drums, the drums wouldn't let him go. It wouldn't leave him alone, never, alone.

Somewhere, in one of these rooms, someone was taking a shower.

The Master could hear the sound of a man's song vibrate through the walls.

In the room behind the wall he was leaning on someone was packing a suitcase.

Someone opened a door and entered the corridor.

It was an old woman with strokes of grey hair which were visibly coming out from under her beautiful, purple hat.

She looked at the Master, not knowing what to expect. She hesitated to pass him at first, but then she decided to approach him anyway.

"Excuse me," said the woman as she passed him, carrying a heavy, leather suitcase by her side.

The Master nodded curtly, and he slightly raised his upper lip in frustration, when she could not see him anymore.

He started walking again, into the opposite direction the old woman was walking.

He passed more rooms, an elevator, and then he passed his own room: room 66.

* * *

The Master laughed hysterically as he opened the large doors with both hands.

"Hello mum! Hello dad!" he mockingly cried in an exaggerated happiness not that far removed from his own real joy, only he was happy for other, more sinister reasons the unhappy, rich couple who stood in front of him would probably never understand.

Lucy stood at the Master's side, sliding her hand back into its place; curled around the Master's hand. Her hair was high, held up by small spikes which had been placed in her hair.

She wore a long, beautiful black dress, and the Master wore a perfect, black suit, with matching black gloves.

The Master smiled politely, honestly amused by the uncomfortable welcome of the butler who approached them, but the Master gently pushed him aside with one arm.

He smiled at the rich couple again, who backed away in honest fright against a glimmering glass table, making some beautiful silver cutlery fall from the ground.

"Lucy, stop him, please!" the woman cried.

Her husband held her tightly as the Master approached.

'Now, we're going to need some money,' the Master said, pouting his lips and bending over a little as he rubbed his gloved hands together. "And you're going to give it to us." he added smiling as he pointed his gloved finger at the pair.

Lucy"s knees grew weak in excitement as she lifted her dress off of the white and beautiful floor.

The floor seemed to shimmer like marble in the morning light, which shined through the large windows at either side of the large hall.

Through the windows a beautiful, green valley was seen in the distance. It was part of the estate and manor which these two, rich people owned.

It was their home, which the Master and Lucy had penetrated and violated.

The Master treated the rich couple like they were children, who were unable to grasp his superior thinking and way of life.

"Lucy!" the husband cried, quickly pushing his spectacles back to the place upon his nose, before he dared to continue.

The Master picked a beautiful silver knife from the floor, which he held in his hands and analyzed as if it were an item of unbelievable value.

"Sir!" the butler cried.

The Master waited until the butler came closer before he attacked.

Lucy let go of the Master's hand as he grabbed the butler's neck and stabbed the butler's stomach with one violent thrust.

The couple screamed in anguish as the butler fell to the ground, staining the perfectly, clean, white floor with his dark, red blood.

"You killed the butler!" Lucy spoke. "You killed Douglas!"

She covered her lips with her pale and perfectly manicured hand.

She looked at the butler's trembling body and it seemed she wanted to cry.

Then all of a sudden, she leaped into the air, subtly and gracefully; a small, petite, leap of joy.

"I've always wanted to do that!" Lucy cried.

"I know, dear," The Master said. "That's why I did it."

"Oh, I hated that man…" Lucy was gleaming as she gazed upon the bleeding body of the butler.

"Now then!" the Master said. His powerful, dark eyes gazed at the rich couple who clung to each other, fearing the deadly hands of the man who threatened them now.. "As I was saying, we need money and lots of it."

Lucy laughed again.

"You will not ask." the Master went on gloriously. "You will not phone the police. In fact, you will do nothing. You will sit in this lovely little mansion of yours. You won't leave. You won't call your friends. You won't invite your friends. You will do nothing but eat, sleep, breathe and piss and fuck and all the other things you stupid apes do every single day of your life, until the day you die, _capiche_?"

The Master pronounced his last word in a mocking style, as if he was quoting a line from a bad movie.

"You can't do this," the woman cried, "You can't do this!"

"I can do whatever I like." the Master replied. "Wait, I'll show you…"

He cleared his throat as he straightened his back.

"You." he said to the husband who immediately set the round spectacles on his nose right, "Bark like a dog."

"What?" he asked. 

"You heard me," the Master said, grinning like an idiot.

Lucy covered her mouth, hiding her small laugh from the couple.

"Bark like a dog," the Master said, as if it were the most common thing in the world. He said it as if it were a simple request, and not a violent and sadistic order.

The man refused to do such a thing.

He shook his head nervously as sweat glistened on top his bald head.

He straightened his back as a sign that he would never give up his dignity like that, not even to the devil himself.

The Master smiled politely as he turned around and approached the butler's corpse. He grabbed the knife which was still stuck in his chest and he pulled it out with moderate strength, staining his new, black coat with a few drops of blood.

Then he approached the couple again and pointed the bloody knife in their direction.

"You _will_ bark." The Master didn't even raise his voice.

"WOOF!" the man barked. "WOOF!"

"Now that's more like it," the Master said, lowering the knife.

"Animals: that's what you are. The entire human race: nothing more than a bunch of stupid little apes, only they're far more dangerous."

The man swallowed as he looked at his wife in shame.

"Come, Lucy." the Master said, offering Lucy a hand. Lucy twisted her arm around his in a loving embrace.

"We're leaving." the Master said.

He smiled at them one last time before they turned around and left.

As they approached the door, the rich couple finally dared to breathe again, and their hearts calmed down.

"Don't forget what I said." the Master said. "Cause I will be checking up on you!"

They both nodded in fear.

"Bye mom! Bye dad!" Lucy finally said, as she waved her parents goodbye.

"Goodbye Lucy," her father replied, and his wife glared at him in anger.

* * *

"If only." The Master said to himself, awakening from his silly daydream.

He ignored his own reflection in the mirror, which was hanging on the brown wall beside him, as he gazed at dear Lucy, who was sleeping in the big bed in front of him.

She was asleep still, recovering from her operation, in this strange hotel.

The Master was playing around with a knife in his hands.

The knife he had used the night before; a weapon of murder and a piece of evidence the police would really like to have in their possession, only they would never find it.

Lucy was slowly breathing in and out. It seemed to be the only sound in the room besides the sound of cars driving on a highway in the distance.

This silence gave the room a strange tranquillity and sense of calm.

The Master had taken off his black jacket which belonged to his old suit.

Now he only wore the white shirt with the hole in it, made by the bullet that had killed him, that had sent him to the shores of the river Styx, waiting for the Hades' ferryman.

Yet he never got on the boat, for his life was saved yet again, and he had returned to the land of the living.

He was back, saved by this strange, strange creature which was sleeping in the bed in front of him.

His dear Lucy…

The Master cut his finger on the knife's sharp blade.

He angrily ran towards the bathroom and held the cut under a cold tap.

He wiped the blood off the knife by cleaning it with a towel, and as he stared at his reflection in the knife he somehow knew exactly what to do to end this horrid situation, to get out of this place, to regain his own dignity.

The Master gripped the knife in his hands.

He was planning to use it very, very soon.

* * *

"So what, we're just going to," Dianna asked, but she got interrupted.

"Yes," Bill said, and he chuckled.

He was stroking the front of his belt with his big hands as he leaned backwards in his rotating chair.

He sat behind his desk with a big smile on his face as Dianna swallowed and glanced around his small office, ignoring the gestures of Bill's hands.

"Right," she muttered, trying to act tough as she looked straight into Bill's eyes, fearlessly.

Bill scratched his beard and stood up from his chair. His fingers touched the edge of his wooden desk as he walked towards Dianna with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"Did you pay a lot for me?" she asked.

"You could say that," Bill laughed again, and he couldn't help but tap his large, leather belt again.

He walked towards the door and locked it with a small, bronze key. Then he closed the blinds which used to grant them sight into the hallways.

Only pale light from the grey sky outside shined through the window at the trembling, yet tough Dianna, who stood all alone in Bill's office, with her mind someplace else as she awaited the brutal man's touch.

In the distance, in the deep of the well, the drumming echoed on and on, creating ripples in the dark, poisonous waters of his mind.

In this dreadful predicament, the drumming was the only thing constant and never changing fact, for it was always there.

Why would it not go away? Had he not given it what it wanted? Had he not stayed when his heart told him to leave? Had he not paid that ruthless man when his hands told him to kill?

Why had he never grown used to this sound of drums in his mind?

Why was he always surprised by its appearance, knowing that it had never faded away entirely? Why did he forget, or was he meant to forget? Or even worse, was he meant to remember?

* * *

Dianna couldn't breathe. The big man forced his lips upon hers, pressing her body against the wall. He held her hands in a tight, powerful grip, with no intention to let go until he got what he wanted: what he had paid for in the first place.

"I can't do this," Dianna said, as she pulled her face away from his.

Bill's ugly lips stained Dianna's neck with his wet saliva. His five-day old beard brushed against her neck, tickling Dianna unintentionally.

"Listen to me." Dianna tried to avoid his brutal touch, his big, violent hands which brushed against her skirt as she tried to push the big man away.

"I paid for you…" Bill simply replied. "Customer is king, I always say."

"Please," Dianna begged.

Bill's hand touched Dianna's neck. His cold wedding-ring sent shivers down her spine.

"Let go of me!" Dianna cried.

She pushed Bill away.

* * *

The Master played with the knife in his hands. The metal blade reflected the pale yellow lights in the ceiling above him.

He walked through the dark corridors, through shadows, as he held his hand and the knife it gripped low beside his leg.

His pace was steady, yet quickening, like an orchestra who had just been ordered by its director to play faster, faster and faster until it would reach an ultimate musical climax.

Bill's office was right down the hallway. The Master remembered the first time he had stepped inside. Bill laughed at him. He acted as if he had the Master cornered and beaten.

He had no idea. He had no fucking idea who he was up against.

For the Master may be weakened, he may be at a disadvantage, disarmed and out of place, but he is still an opponent one must never underestimate.

The Master's vengeance will be sweet.

* * *

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bill yelled.

"The deal's off, okay?" Dianna said, backing away from Bill as she tried to reach the door. "I'm not doing it. That."

"You'll do whatever I tell you to." Bill said.

"No way," Dianna said fierce.

Bill struck her down with a violent and flat blow to her cheek.

Dianna fell to her knees as she cradled her sore face.

"I paid for you, and now I am entitled to some service."

"ADAM!" Dianna yelled, as she tried to get up, but Bill simply smacked her down on her knees again, this time with a softer slap to her face.

"He can't hear you." Bill said. "He's in his room right now, on the other side of the hotel, listening to whatever crappy music he likes to listen to as he counts his money."

"ADAM!"

"Just shut your mouth, you little whore!" Bill yelled. "Or better yet…"

His hands brushed his belt again and Dianna looked away.

Bill's threat was cancelled as a mysterious hand pounded the door of his office 4 times.

Then again, and again, repeating the pounding rhythm all over again, not stopping until someone would open the locked door.

"This isn't over yet." Bill said, fearing her pimp and boyfriend to be standing at the other end of that door. He wiped his lips and straightened his shirt and pants as he approached to open the door.

But as he opened the door, he discovered that nobody was there. There was nothing but an empty hallway.

"What the-" Bill didn't understand.

"Some joke this is." Bill said to the empty corridor, not realising that Dianna swiftly ran past him behind his back.

"You bitch!" Bill yelled, as he tried to catch her, but the skinny girl was too quick for him.

She ran into the corridor, avoiding his powerful hands and finally eluded him entirely.

"You little…!" Bill cried as he realised his chase was pointless.

He stood only a few metres away from his office, but he gave up nonetheless.

"Give me my money back!"

"You'll get it!" Dianna yelled as she ran around the corner. "You'll get it!"

Bill growled furiously. He tightened his belt and returned into his office, where he opened the blinds of both the door and windows, letting light enter his humble abode again.

* * *

And the Master smiled.

Killing the manager would have been so easy.

Too easy.

But beating him at his own game; blackmailing him, now that would be fun.

The Master started to enjoy this challenge; he was glad the drums in his mind forced him to stay, for cowardice had its benefits, with survival being its main reward, but sometimes, if one could stick around and play along, he would be able witness the end of the match and the twist in the game.

And sometimes, that's worth the wait.

* * *

Dianna rushed away to her room where she thought her boyfriend would be waiting.

She was wrong; Adam was nowhere to be seen.

Biting her lip, she decided to search for the money they now owed the angry manager; the brutal man would probably not shy away from murder to get what he wanted.

Dianna feared retribution if she wouldn't return the money as soon as possible.

"Adam?" she tried again, whispering frightfully into the shadows of the dark hotel-room.

Big, dusty, purple curtains had shut away the light from entering through the windows.

"Adam?"

Nor her hopes, nor her persistence were awarded, instead she found nothing but an empty room and she couldn't find the money either.

Dianna panicked, running her hands through her hair as she chewed on her gold necklace in her mouth.

She spat it out as soon as she realised where Adam must've gone to.

Dianna shut the door behind her with a careless throw and a loud bang, before she ran downstairs again to where she thought the dining room had to be located.

Her hunch had been correct, and she found what she was looking for quickly.

She saw Adam sitting alone at a table in the crowded and busy diner, eating a salad and a sandwich as he read a borrowed newspaper.

"Adam!" Dianna cried as she rushed through the diner and sat down at the other end of his small, round table.

Adam wasn't keen on interrupting his relaxed lunch for his panicking girlfriend; in fact he seemed almost reluctant.

"Dina?" Adam feigned concern as he put down his newspaper, "What's wrong? He's not dead, is he?"

"No," Dianna replied. "He's not dead. I just…"

"What?" Adam asked.

He carefully placed his hand on hers, showing his sympathy and that he cared for her; that he loved her.

Yet soon he would remove that hand to continue eating his salad, revealing his true motives in a subtle, careless act, showing he did not care at all.

"I couldn't do it." Dianna said, trying her best not to be heard by anyone else but Adam.

She leaned forward and almost started to whisper to him. Every time either Delilah or Jeremy walked past, she sat back down in her seat and stopped talking.

"What?" Adam asked, putting down his fork as he stopped eating.

He swallowed his last bite and angrily looked at Dianna.

"I couldn't. I just couldn't." Dianna continued.

"What is the matter with you?" Adam said to her, holding down his anger, even fiercely shutting his teeth together to keep himself from shouting.

"Don't you understand how much money this guy has paid for you? It's like he just won the lottery or something! Dianna!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Dianna said. Her hand started trembling.

She almost couldn't control her tears.

"I just couldn't go through with it," Dianna continued whispering as she looked at the strange man in the corner of her eyes. "I ran…and I told him we'd pay him back…"

The strange man in the corner of her eyes sat in the corner of the diner, eating bacon with his sharp teeth.

He looked at her very strangely, and Dianna quickly looked away, knowing that he didn't do the same.

"But I just don't understand," Adam said. "Why did you do it? Why Dina, tell me why?"

Dianna couldn't answer him.

The stranger's eyes pierced the side of her face and she started to feel uneasy.

"Can we go to our room? Please?" Dianna asked.

Adam didn't listen to her.

"You just kiss him and sleep with him and go home!" Adam said. "That's it. So put aside your pride and give him all you've got. One little hour with him and we don't have to work for maybe three whole months!"

"Well, that's easy for you to say," Dianna whispered.

Delilah approached their table, wearing her apron and holding a coffeepot in her hands.

"Anything for you, dear?" she asked Dianna.

Dianna was hungry, yet Adam angrily glanced at Dianna before he said:

"No, thank you." Adam said. "We'll be going back to our rooms now and pack our suitcases."

Dianna glanced at the stranger in the corner, who laughed this incredible big, unbelievable smile at her, as if he was having the best day of his life.

"Oh, yes." Delilah said. "You'll be leaving in the afternoon, now, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are." Dianna said.

"Although there's a chance we might be staying here just a little bit longer." Adam added.

"Oh, I do hope so." Delilah said.

"Of course you do," Adam said. "Goodbye."

He violently grabbed Dianna's arm and pushed her in front of him, saying: "You shouldn't have come here. We'll continue this in our room."

The stranger stood up without finishing his meal.

* * *

Adam didn't let go of Dianna as he pushed her through the blue corridors of the hotel.

"Officially, I'm your pimp," Adam said.

"You're my boyfriend!" Dianna said.

"You do what I tell you to do." Adam ignored Dianna's words as if they meant nothing. "But if you ever pull of a stunt like this again, I'll leave, you got that? I'll dump you here in Cardiff and never look back. You hear me? Never do that again!"

"What? Not fucking the manager or talking to you in the diner?" Dianna asked.

Adam placed his hand on Dianna's cheek.

He used the seemingly gentle gesture to push her farther down the hotel's corridor.

"Both!" Adam said.

Adam almost ripped open the door to their room and pushed Dianna inside.

"Why are you treating me like this?" Dianna cried.

"Honey, look at this! Look at this!" Adam said, revealing Bill's money from the pocket of his jeans, "We could've spent this! I could've bought you new shoes! I could've bought a new jacket! Now because of you we're going to have to return it!"

He slammed the door shut, returning shadow into the room as he shut away the corridor's lights from the room.

He didn't bother to turn them on as he approached the crying Dianna.

"I could sleep with him," she muttered, "I'll sleep with him."

"Finally, you see reason." Adam said, brushing his fingers through her brown hair as she cried, kneeling down on the floor in emotional pain.

Adam had managed to break her once again. In his mind he congratulated himself on his ingenuity. He'd be a rich man soon, if only she would do her job.

"Take a shower," Adam said to Dianna, "That manager is never going to lay a hand on you if you smell like this. Honestly, really, take a shower."

Dianna could not speak, nor cry, nor make any noise. She was too weak to defend herself from her lover's grip, too weak to defy him.

Perhaps once she could have said something. Once, a long time ago, she could have slapped him in the face, she could have left him, but not today, not anymore.

She wiped away her tears and breathed deeply as she walked towards the bathroom of the dark hotel-room, doing exactly what Adam had told her to do.

She gathered the pieces of herself and carried her own heavy body into the bath-room where she turned on the lights as she entered.

The white light filled the bathroom and suite. Adam folded his arms as he watched how Dianna took off her clothing.

But another man was bathing in the light of the bathroom. He hid in the shadows of the room.

He had snuck inside when they weren't looking. They made the mistake of not closing the door entirely, and the intruder used this to his advantage.

His hand gripped the small knife in his hands with a gentle power as the drums faded away into the distance.

The absence of the drums left a terrible silence which the Master welcomed to his mind. He felt magnificent. He was magnificent.

As he grabbed hold of Adam's throat he aimed the knife for his eye.

No more could Adam see the light of the bathroom with his right eye. He could only see his own eye's reflection in the deadly glimmer of the knife's metallic shine.

The Master's wrist was itching to make one fatal move. The drums were miraculously absent.

Yet for some reason, the Master repressed his murderous urges and only listened to Adam's painful, frightful groans, instead of making them worse.

His eyes lingered on Dianna who was still struggling to take off her top. It got stuck around her neck and it blinded her from seeing Adam in the Master's deadly grasp.

"Listen to me." the Master said to him. "Are you listening?"

The Master tightened his grip around Adam's throat.

"Yes." Adam groaned.

"Good for you," the Master said, "Now listen carefully..."

* * *

As Dianna finally rid herself of the clothing around her head, she wiped away her tears and swallowed, clearing her sore throat. She did not hear how the Master whispered basic rules into Adam's ears.

Rules Adam would have to uphold to maintain his own life. He had to set aside his pride for survival.

"Leave now," the Master said, "And never come back. For if you do…"

The Master twisted the knife, letting light enter Adam's vulnerable eye for a brief second before the knife's metal returned in its original, threatening position.

"…you'll lose more than an eye." the Master finished.

Dianna gasped as she turned her head and saw Adam struggling to breathe as he fought to get out of the Master's stranglehold, without success.

She didn't know what to do. She could only think of covering herself up. She hid her half naked body from the deadly intruder by quickly grabbing a towel as she backed away into the shower.

"Do you understand?" the Master said calmly to Adam.

Adam nodded carefully.

"Good." the Master released Adam.

The drums stayed blissfully silent when Adam panicked and ran away.

Adam covered his face and he cradled his sore throat as he ran out of the room and out of the hotel, away from this mysterious and deadly assassin.

Dianna froze as she stared into the stranger's eyes; the same eyes which had been haunting her in the diner not so long ago.

Why did he follow her? Why did he come after her?

Was he going to kill her? Was this her final moment?

Dianna was afraid, but it surprised even herself that she was not trembling. She was fine, facing death, but she could not face her lover...

She courageously awaited the Master's reaction, yet it seemed they both froze as they gazed upon each other.

Then, the Master smiled and simply left, without saying anything, without doing anything, except the right thing.

* * *

Bill sat behind his desk, watching television. He lowered his hand from time to time into a small pack of crisps which he stuffed into his face whenever he could.

_"The blast was one of the deadliest attacks in Baghdad in weeks, following a period in which many locals had begun to hope the security…_

The newsreaders spoke to the camera's with emotionless faces, like they always did: cold, direct and straight to the point.

That's what Bill liked about them.

He ate some more crisps as he kept on watching the news, almost ignoring his wife, who entered his office at that point.

"Bill…"

_"...still no suspects apprehended. The 28-year old Sam Leonard Smith had dropped out of medical school to be able to travel and see more of England. He travelled alone from Edinburgh to London and was mysteriously killed in Cardiff by a murderer who has yet to be identified."_

"He got it coming." Bill said.

"You can't say that." Delilah said nervously.

She wanted to say something to Bill, but she was afraid, so she waited for the perfect time to tell him.

"Well, I am," Bill said, "He was travelling alone! He was asking to be killed, or at least mugged."

"They robbed him of his life, that is." Delilah sighed.

Bill ate some more crisps. "Don't care, really."

"Of course you don't," Delilah spoke.

Bill did not see the angry look in her eyes, or his son standing in front of his office with two packed suitcases and a lamp.

"I only hope that this will bring more tourists to Cardiff," Bill said, chuckling at his own humour.

Delilah was again disgusted by this statement.

"There's no such thing as bad publicity, darling," Bill said, stuffing away another handful of crisps down his mouth.

"I don't know why I ever married you," Delilah said.

"Cause of the looks, probably," Bill joked.

"Stop it, Bill," Delilah said, and she gathered her courage to say the most difficult words she ever had to say, "I'm leaving."

Bill didn't hear it at first.

He was listening to the television, so he didn't hear what she was saying.

"What?" Then he realised what she had just said. "You're leaving?"

"Yes, Bill," Delilah said to him, "I'm going to my mother's place, and I'm taking Jeremy with me."

"What?!" Bill angrily stood up from his chair. "All the way to London? You've got to be kidding!"

"Not anymore," Delilah said. "This is the end for us, Bill."

"But why?" he asked sincerely.

"'Cause you're sleeping with prostitutes, that's why," Delilah simply said.

Bill was left speechless.

"Goodbye, Bill." She turned around and left, intending to file a divorce as soon as she got the chance. Delilah left the hotel without looking back once, although Jeremy did.

It took at least an hour before her departure had any effect on Bill.

As he finally realised she would not be coming back, he forced himself not to cry and instead he chose anger.

He trashed his office, violently and passionate and murderous.

He had flipped his desk and destroyed his cabinets before he had a chance to calm down.

And he did so with perfect timing, for just when he calmed down, the news showed this:

_"Tomorrow they will vote whether or not they will choose Acting Prime Minister Gary Quentin as the new and official Prime Minister, or if they will place their faith in the investigation and search for the presumed dead Prime Minister Harold Saxon, who disappeared after the assassination of American President Winters aboard the Valiant._

_Saxon has since then been spotted at least ten million times in the UK alone, and over these six months, only six of these cases have been taken seriously by the police."_

As the TV showed a picture of Prime Minister Harold Saxon something inside Bill Warren's mind finally made sense.

"I've got him!" he cried as he stampeded out of the office, like a predator picking up the scent of its prey.

* * *

"You."

The lights of the blue corridor were flickering. The Master stood in the far distance of the corridor, adjusting the collar and sleeves of his white shirt. With his black, stainless shoes he made no sound whatsoever. Bill on the other hand seemed to pound the floor with every step he took. His anger had seemed to turn him into a stampeding rhino, which would not stop for anyone or anything, except a solid, brick wall.

He seemed unstoppable, unbeatable, a bloodthirsty monster.

HE. KNEW. NOTHING.

The Master laughed.

"You!" Bill cried as he approached the Master, who stood motionless in the shadows. "I know who you are!"

Bill laughed as he walked on and on towards the Master.

"I know your name!"

The Master never moved a muscle. He calmly kept his hands in his pockets, never once feeling the urge to defend himself from the coming threat.

"I OWN YOU! One phone-call and the police will be crawling up every creak and door of this hotel to find you! You're mine now! And I am going to strip you dry!"

He laughed, but then he stopped.

He only had to take one more step and then he would have pushed the Master aside, yet Bill stopped right in front of him, and the Master never flinched.

This troubled Bill. He didn't understand why the Master didn't flinch.

He didn't understand why the Master didn't fear him.

He hated it.

"You'll have to pay me again, if you want your fucking wife to live." Bill said. "I'll snap the neck of Mrs. Harold Saxon, unless you give me what I want. Do you understand that, Prime Minister?! Hell, I don't even need to snap her neck, I only need to lean on her stomach and she'll be in complete agony. Of course, compared to what I'll do to you…"

"And you'll do what?!" the Master yelled. "Scream at me again?"

For one second Bill was taken aback by the Master's words.

"No, Mr. Saxon, I'll fucking kill you if you don't do what I say."

The Master laughed.

"Kill me?" he said. "No, I'm done with dying."

Bill didn't listen.

"When I'm through with you you'll be begging for me to call the police!"

"Then do it, you sick, pathetic, little man!" the Master yelled.

He started laughing at Bill. He laughed so loud Bill got so angry he clenched his teeth together and started to get cramps in his jaws.

"You're so out of your depth, aren't you…you sad, stupid, gorilla of a man!" the Master yelled, "You think you are so grand, so strong, and so untouchable, as you blackmail your guests and cheat on your wife, with fucking prostitutes! But you're not fooling anyone, you little hotel-owner."

The Master spoke viciously, mercilessly and without fear.

He slowly stepped forward, and Bill backed away from him, mimicking the Master's every step, only backwards.

"You see yourself as the centre of the universe, the most important thing in existence. Yet, you are scum, you are meaningless, as is the rest of all mankind, for you are but a man, one rotten, normal man, a human; just as meaningless as the rest of them, just the same."

The Master kept on forcing the oblivious Bill back through the long, blue hallway, through shadow and light.

"Humans are like insects, unable to grasp the bigger picture, the concept of vast and endless outer space. Like insects, like cockroaches, for you are like cockroaches, eluding extermination, genocide and your own species' warfare."

The Master never lost his calm. He laughed at some points, mocking Bill's fear as he drove him away, towards the staircase.

"You are the universe's greatest plague, its greatest threat. To trap you within a never-ending paradox, a genius loop of death and destruction in which you kill yourselves over and over again, was the best and most brilliant plan I've ever come up with."

The Master smiled proudly and arrogantly. This smile frightened Bill more than anything.

He could see his own death reflected in the dark eyes of the Master.

Bill almost tripped over his own feet as he kept on backing away from the Master.

"No, the Doctor may have trapped you at the end of the universe, but I don't care. No, wait, in fact, quite the opposite: I rejoice in the fact that your kind will finally die, for now none will escape the end of the universe, the apocalypse, heat-death, the beginning of nothing…the end of everything: except me."

The Master stopped.

Bill now stood right at the edge of the stairwell without him knowing it.

He gasped for breath as he gazed frightfully into the Master's eyes.

"Who are you?" Bill was trembling, frightened like a child who faced a judge in a courtroom, oblivious to the fact that his fate had already been determined several hours ago.

"I am the Master." he answered, and Bill backed away one final step into oblivion. His foot touched air and Bill slowly tumbled backwards into the opening, falling down the stairs, tumbling down until he finally hit the ground of the floor below with a loud thud.

Bill, the manager, was dead.

And there was no drumming.

* * *

The Master dragged Bill's corpse through the empty, wooden lobby of the ATREUS-hotel.

He pulled at Bill's big feet, touching his gigantic, ugly boots to drag him across the floor.

He was heavy. He checked all entrances and exits, hoping that a guest wouldn't be walking in on him as he tried to cover up this bad man's deserved murder.

The Master laughed as he called it that in his mind.

He deserved it.

The Master laughed again, but softer this time.

He dragged Bill's corpse past the desk of the reception, hoping to get rid of Bill's corpse in his office, where he would not be disturbed by prying eyes or curious ears and eager mouths who would not hesitate to call the police.

Torchwood would be all over this place within the hour.

He saw the door to Bill's office in the corner of his eyes as he looked around. Then he looked back and saw Dianna standing in front of him, glancing at the corpse at his feet.

She had a suitcase in her hands. She would've left if she had not caught the Master like this.

He looked at her, awaiting her response. There was a small chance she was not carrying a cell phone, and there was a small chance she would not be calling the police within her first breath.

"Are you going to kill me too?" Dianna asked.

The Master laughed.

"That depends." he replied amused.

The doors of the hotel opened slowly, and Dianna ran back up the stairwell she had just descended.

The Master quickly dragged Bill's corpse behind the counter of the reception and he hid beside it, hoping that the rich, fat couple who had just entered hadn't seen him.

"It seems fine by me." the fat woman with the glasses said, with an American accent.

"Typical." the Master whispered as he swiftly curled up dead Bill's feet and tried to fit himself beneath the counter.

"It looks better than the brochure." she added.

"Sir?" her husband said as he approached the counter. "We saw you!"

"Sir?"

The Master punched the floor with an angry fist.

"Why is he hiding?" the woman asked.

"Mister, we got a lot of luggage we'd like to have carried inside, I don't know if there's someone who can help me with that…are you the manager?"

Dianna lingered in the shadows at the top of the stairs, unseen by the couple who had just entered the hotel. She smiled at the Master who was still hiding behind the reception's desk with a dead body between his legs. He looked at her too.

She was laughing.

"Sir?" the man asked.

"Yes!" the Master said, suddenly jumping up from behind the counter to face the American couple. "I am the manager. How may I help you?"

He rubbed his hands together before he reached out towards the American couple in a symbolical gesture of him welcoming them into the hotel with open arms.

And then he showed them his big smile.


	10. The Lost Soldiers

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

The air was incredibly thin as their stamina was put to the ultimate test.

Sir Andrew Prescott defied the highest and most dangerous mountain in the world with his servant by his side. He gazed at the sun through his dark sunglasses and he swiftly and subtly touched his upper lip using his tongue.

'I wish could touch it, Peter.' Andrew spoke to his servant, lifting his lip in an amused smile.

The sun was shining brightly upon the two gentlemen who had wrapped themselves in many layers of clothing to fight off the cold.

Sir Andrew clung to the mountainside with his big, black gloves, groaning as he pulled himself on to the snowy ledge.

'If only I could reach out…' he continued as he got up on his feet and looked at the sun.

He helped his servant and best friend by pulling the rope which connected them, and then he grabbed his hand and pulled him up on to the snowy ledge.

'…and touch it's fiery, warm surface.'

'If you could ever fit it in the palm of your hand.' Peter said.

Sir Andrew smiled as he imagined himself holding the sun in his gloved hand.

'I envy Icarus.' Sir Andrew said, reminiscing the ancient mythology he loved to read about.

'Icarus fell.' his servant Peter said. 'He died.'

'Well, some things are worth dying for.' Sir Andrew spoke.

Sir Andrew Prescott gathered his rope and pickaxes before he turned around and left. He continued up the slope and path of the snowy ledge, which lead to a bright and white, untouched valley of snow. Peter followed him.

They saw dark clouds haunting other sections of the mountains. White clouds which surrounded the mountains blinded the two travellers from seeing the beautiful mountaintops.

'If we go that way,' Peter said, pointing at a rift between the mountains,' we could reach the next checkpoint within three hours. All we have to do is avoid the chasm and all the possible danger-zones and we'll definitely survive this trip, what do you say, sir?'

Sir Andrew didn't answer his servant and travelling companion.

He gazed upon the snow with a petrified and terrified look upon his face.

'Sir?' Peter asked again.

Sir Andrew then raised his gloved hand and pointed at the snow, not far away from them.

A hand was sticking out of the snow: a gloved, white and shining hand.

It was almost unseen in the white landscape, but Sir Andrew saw it.

'Oh, my god,' Peter said as he grabbed his friend's hand and followed him towards it.

As they approached it, they saw how the hand twitched.

'He's still alive!' Andrew gasped and he quickly rushed to come to the buried man's aid.

The hand moved again.

'Dig, my friend!' Sir Andrew yelled. 'Dig!'

They started digging with their pickaxes into the snow surrounding the hand.

The hand wore a silver glove which glistened in the bright sunlight.

'We have to get him out of here, quickly!' Peter cried. 'Back to the encampment! We have to keep him warm, or he'll die!'

They scratched away the snow and ice which covered the poor man's hand, discovering that the person wore an outfit which matched his silver gloves.

The hand felt heavy. With every touch they felt like they were touching metal, not clothing and skin.

'Hold on!' Sir Andrew yelled at the snow beneath him.

Then the hand attacked, grabbing Sir Andrew's throat in a deadly lock.

Peter kept on digging for a second before he realized his master was in danger.

He tried to loosen the silver hand's grip but it seemed useless.

The man was going to die right here in front of him, by this ungrateful, frozen man in the ground.

'Master!' Peter cried.

And then the hand let go.

Sir Andrew Prescott lived and gasped for air as he cradled his sore throat.

His sunglasses had fallen upon the ground during his struggle. He squinted his eyes as he gazed upon the hand in the snow.

Another hand emerged from the snow, not far away from the first hand.

And then another, and another.

The snow started to shake as silver hands emerged from the snow around them and grabbed their feet.

They tried to walk, but it was impossible. Blinded by sunlight and unable to move, Sir Andrew and his servant dropped to the ground as they lost balance.

The hands grabbed their arms and feet, binding them to the soil with an iron grip.

Their cries of help echoed through the valley.

Figures seemed to emerge from the snow.

Sir Andrew couldn't see anything but dark silhouettes standing over him.

'Resistance is pointless.' the dark figure spoke in a metallic voice as the grip of the hands tightened, pulling them deeper and deeper into the cold snow, until everything turned black.

* * *

Snowflakes lingered like fog in the cold air, lit up by an approaching flashlight in the distance. 'This way,' Ianto said. 'I'm sure of it.'

'Or at least you think you're sure of it.' Owen added, shining his flashlight in Ianto's face.

Their big boots sank into the snow as they struggled through its thick layers, ignoring the intimidating black clouds above their heads as they followed Ianto's trail.

'It was here,' Ianto said, waving at the snow beneath him. 'Right here...'

'Tell me you're joking.' Gwen said.

'He's not joking.' Owen said, as he started to examine his surroundings.

Ianto's heart was beating in his neck. His chest was hurting and he was covered in sweat.

Gwen gazed at the white mountains and the black rocks which were sticking out of its white, snowy surface.

'Tosh?' Gwen said, touching her ear pod with two gloved fingers. 'Tosh, can you hear me? We're looking for you. Tosh, if you're out there…if you can hear us…'

Down in the depths below, down the white hillside of the mountain, the frozen lake reflected pale, almost invisible, soft sunlight which only hurt their eyes slightly. Gwen sadly stopped trying to reach Toshiko, however she never stopped hoping that she was still out there somewhere, alive and well.

'We're lost.' Owen spoke.

Gwen searched through the snow with her gloves for Ianto's old footprints.

The wind was blowing wildly across the white plains, blowing snow in their faces. That same snow buried the footprints and tracks, making it impossible to find.

'This is weird.' Owen said, touching the snow with his big boot. 'The snow seems less thick at this end. Almost as if it's recently been dug…or filled.'

Ianto didn't dare to look them in the eyes. He could only look back to the direction from which they had come. It was the only road of which he knew where it would lead him.

He angrily bit his lip and scratched the top of his head. He didn't know what to do.

He had made a mistake. He had made a promise.

Toshiko could be dying, and he's lead them to the wrong place. Brilliant, that was.

He wanted to yell, but he did the exact opposite. He froze and awaited orders. Something he was used to. Something he felt safe doing, because Jack would know what to do.

But then he remembered: Jack was gone.

'Well, well…' Owen mused. 'What do we have here?'

He shined his flashlight upon the snow in front of him, revealing the marks of a giant footprint.

'What the hell?' Gwen said.

The giant shape in the snow looked like the print of a giant paw. The silhouette and shadow were visible whenever Owen would shine his flashlight upon the snow.

'You know what this is?' Owen said proudly.

'The abominable snowman,' Ianto said witty, hiding his inner turmoil with jokes. 'Bigfoot's big brother.'

'The Yeti.' Owen whispered.

'Or sister,' Ianto added when he saw that Gwen looked at him strangely.

Owen curled his lip, fascinated by the huge print as he gazed upon the snow. He immediately opened his rucksack and took out his camera, after which he started to make photos of the footprint.

It didn't take long for him to find more giant tracks in the snow. The footprints were disappearing somewhere into the distance. Sunlight hid most of them; the white snow blinded them and prevented them from seeing detail in the beautiful snow.

'And I was starting to think this little assignment was a waste of our time.' Owen said, as he put on his sunglasses. 'Now we've gone and found ourselves a real mission...'

They weren't even sure whether this trail of giant footprints would lead them to Toshiko and Gwen feared that Owen's enthusiasm would result in her death. He was eager to follow the creature's footprints, almost forgetting that one of their teammates was missing and almost definitely in mortal danger.

Owen was already following the trail down into the snow valley when Gwen decided to confront him about it.

'Wait, Owen.' she tried to say, but he wouldn't stop. 'Owen! Stop it.'

Ianto silently backed Gwen, remembering his promise. The life of a friend was far more important than a possible alien encounter.

'Owen, you can't do this!' Gwen cried.

'Do what?' Owen replied.

'You're leaving Toshiko to die!' Gwen yelled.

Her voice slightly echoed through the valley below. Further down they could see the frozen lake, the brown, sand mountains and the tropical forests which grew below them. The mountaintops seemed like ants from where they were standing, and they hadn't even gone close towards the tops of the huge, snow-capped mountains.

'This doesn't make sense, Gwen.' Owen spoke. 'Something's wrong about this, all of this: Toshiko's disappearance, the appearance of these prints in the snow, Ianto somehow forgetting where he left Tosh, and we know he never forgets anything.'

'That's true.' Ianto spoke softly, unable to resist the temptation to make a joke.

Gwen didn't look at him, but he could tell she didn't like his attitude, so from that moment on he stopped making jokes and focused on the situation at hand. He was supposed to be serious, not cracking jokes to ease the tension, or hide his true fears.

Fear of losing Toshiko. Fear of breaking a promise.

Like he did once before, when he said to Lisa everything would be all right.

'Something's going on here, Gwen.' Owen continued. 'And you know it.'

Gwen knew he was true, but she couldn't risk Toshiko's life.

'We don't know what's out there!' she spoke.

She tried to be kind and friendly, as not to anger Owen. She knew he had been bottling up his anger for the past few days, these terribly long days which they had spent here in the Himalayas: without Captain Jack Harkness.

They were left on their own. Now they had to make their own decisions, only this time, Toshiko's life depended on it.

Small drops of sweat slipped on to Gwen's forehead, which she tried to ignore.

Owen felt the same need to censor his anger. He, like Gwen, knew the team's morale was low, and their mental state was fragile without the good captain's support.

When they heard the news that they were ordered to the Himalayas to examine the signs of extraterrestrial life in these cold mountains, they thought that Jack would be waiting for them there. In their minds he would be standing there, smiling at them as he wore his familiar long, blue coat in the freezing cold, but he never showed up.

He had abandoned them.

'Look, Gwen,' Owen said. 'I know what you must be going through right now, with you trying to be a good leader and all…'

'I'm not your leader.' Gwen replied, lifting his sunglasses to look at Gwen with his own eyes.

'I might be second in command,' Owen said, glancing for a moment in Ianto's direction before he continued. 'But I'm no good leader. You see, I don't want all that responsibility.'

Gwen didn't dare to interrupt him. She slowly breathed out warm air which then started to rise and fade away into the sky.

'We need a leader, ' Owen said, 'and it might as well be you.'

Gwen wanted to say thanks, but didn't. Instead a short pause lingered as Owen put his sunglasses back on properly.

'Well, then you might as well do as I say.' Gwen said. 'I'm telling you, Owen Harper, don't follow that trail. Finding Toshiko should be our first priority!'

'She _is_ my first priority!' Owen yelled.

Another silence followed as wind howled across the icy plains.

'Listen.' Owen spoke to Gwen. 'We might as well split up. You take Scooby (he points at Ianto) and I'll go and find the monster, now how's that for a fucking, genius plan?'

He turned around and walked away.

'Owen!' Gwen yelled.

'This is a bad idea…' Ianto mused.

Gwen wasn't listening to Ianto, but she was feeling the exact same thing he was feeling.

A very bad feeling.

'No, no, no…' Gwen said. 'He's not going to get away with this! We are _not _splitting up! The last thing we need is another missing team-member!'

So Gwen and Ianto joined Owen in his quest to find the monster that made those footprints, hoping that this same path would lead them towards the missing Toshiko.

Torchwood would stick together. They would never abandon each other.

Not like Jack had done to them.

* * *

Toshiko forgot time during her wanderings through the dark and endless corridors beneath the mountains, counting lifetimes instead of hours as her hope diminished.

The tunnels seemed untouched, yet a freezing layer of ice covered everything. Everything seemed to be made of metal. There were no lights, only darkness.

The only thing she saw was darkness. The only thing she heard was her own erratic breathing.

Toshiko trampled the ice on the ground with her boots, almost tripping over hardened stalagmites in the process. Sometimes she couldn't help but slip away; the ground was one icy surface, which reflected the light of the flashlight at Toshiko. At some points even the walls ended, but the ice had continued to grow, and it now blocked entire corridors out of Toshiko's range.

The air was terribly cold. Toshiko now entered a fork in her path: two tunnels leading in opposite directions, and Tosh didn't know what to do.

A sound in the distance made her heart jump. It could have been anything, but Toshiko knew there was only one dark answer.

Toshiko hesitated. Her gut instinct was telling her to run back to the door. Something was wrong.

Something was definitely wrong here. Something was out of place.

And ironically, everything was out of place, making the only thing which didn't belong there Toshiko herself. She wasn't supposed to be there.

Toshiko backed away from the tunnel in front of her, feeling fear take a hold of her, forcing her to turn back. She ran back towards the door, through the dusty, freezing darkness and through snow and ice. She slipped and fell; even her hand could not grip the wall, for everything was ice.

Her fall was painful, for the ice was hard. She bruised her upper lip, and her flashlight rolled out of her hands.

Its light shined on the icy wall, revealing a ghostly face which seemed to be painted on it.

A dark and mysterious silhouette of a man buried or stuck within the icy wall.

Toshiko gasped for air as she crawled away from that particular wall before getting up with difficulty, grasping a freezing stalagmite with her arms to help herself up.

The ghostly apparition seemed like a reflection of a man standing in the centre of the dark and icy corridor, only there was no man standing in the centre of the corridor.

Toshiko's warm breath faded away into the air, upwards towards the ceiling and shadows.

She approached the figure inside the ice. She examined it.

It seemed like it had been carved into the ice, but then she looked closer and saw that it stood within the ice, as if the ice had grown around it.

Toshiko gazed into the tunnels at either side of her. Total darkness and a freezing cold surrounded her.

Her lips shivered as her curiosity managed to get a hold of her.

Perhaps this was a clue which could help solve the mystery of these tunnels.

Was it a statue? Was it an alien? Was it dead?

How did it end up in there? Toshiko wondered how long this figure had stood there as the ice absorbed him. Was it years? Decades, centuries, even millennia?

Toshiko gazed into the frozen figure's hollow eyes.

She recognised it from somewhere. She didn't know where.

Was it a suit this frozen man was wearing, and a mask?

More rumblings in the distance of the dark tunnels agitated Tosh. The ghostly apparition next to her only made her more nervous, more afraid.

A voice in her earpiece spoke to her like voices in her head, but the distortions had disappeared as quickly as they appeared and Toshiko's hope that her team-mates were looking for her faded away with every heartbeat.

'Hello?' she asked to the darkness, clutching her flashlight with both of her gloved hands.

The light was shaking, trembling, just as her hands were.

Toshiko wondered whether this would be the place where she would die.

* * *

The mountain seemed to shake, like an earthquake was occurring somewhere close.

The three remaining Torchwood members feared the sight of avalanches as the snow beneath their feet started to shiver.

'What on Earth…' Owen tried to say, but just as he finished saying those words he knew that this was not from Earth. The tracks in the snow: it had to be alien.

A giant roar echoed through the mountains.

'I hate it when I'm right.' Owen said as a gust of snow was blown into their faces, as another roar sent shivers down the spine of the mountain. Ianto was the only one not to grab for his gun as the echo rumbled across the skies. The snow was trembling beneath their feet.

Something was moving.

'Gwen!' Owen cried.

'I'm not going anywhere.' Gwen replied.

'Ianto!' Owen yelled, waving his gun around in search for a threat and a target.

'I'm right here.' Ianto replied.

The sound came from far away, yet it seemed to be approaching them.

'Do we hide?' Ianto asked.

'No way.' Owen said.

* * *

Something was moving in the dark. Toshiko gasped for air. She stopped breathing so that she would be able to listen in depth to the sounds within the darkness.

Something was crawling, slithering, in the dark.

* * *

'Leave.' a terrible, deep voice spoke.

'Jesus!' Owen cried as he quickly turned around and pointed his gun at the huge, white monster which stood in front of them.

It was as white as the snow, with claws as big as the tires of a car. The creature had twisted, yellow horns attached to its forehead, and a big fur which covered his entire body; it even obscured its eyes from the team's sight.

Ianto backed away and fell down in the snow.

Gwen lost her voice, her courage and her sanity, as the Yeti gazed down upon them all.

The Yeti was almost twice their size and seemed humanoid; his proportions seemed not so different from the average human. Only the hunch on its back made the creature lean forward a little, and its big hands dangled in the air if they did not touch the snow.

'Leave now.' the creature spoke without moving his lips.

His fur was slowly brushed by the cold wind.

Owen's heart was beating madly in his chest as he kept on gasping for breath.

They didn't understand what was happening. They didn't understand why they were still alive.

'Toshiko's life is in danger, but soon yours will be too.'

'Was that a threat?' Owen spoke. 'I think that was a threat. Did you hear that?'

'His lips aren't moving!' Ianto spoke crazily as he tried to make a point. 'Why aren't his lips moving?'

The creature stood there, silently and calm, watching how the three remaining members of Torchwood freaked out.

'We are here to save our friend.' Gwen spoke to the creature, hoping it was a kind creature, sentient and capable of understanding their words.

'Your friend will die…' the creature replied.

Owen could see his big and sharp yellow teeth glistening in the bright sunlight.

'That's it.' Owen said.

He fired at the Yeti and a small grapple hook was launched into the creature's shoulder.

The creature yelled as it endured painful agony, whilst Owen pulled the rope tighter, until he shot another hook in the snow.

'Owen, what are you doing?' Ianto asked.

Blood smeared across the creature's beautiful white fur.

'He threatened us!' Owen yelled. 'Didn't you hear his voice inside your head? Didn't you hear what he said? He's going to kill Tosh and afterwards, he's going to kill us as well!'

Gwen gazed upon the roaring creature which lay in the snow in front of her, angered and in pain. It fell to his knees and tried to reach out with its claw towards Owen.

'Tosh is the appetizer, and we're the main course.'

Owen evaded the Yeti, tied to the rope which bound him to the snow, and the grapple hook which was stuck in its shoulder.

'He won't sneak up on us ever again.' Owen said.

Ianto wondered if he should take a picture of the creature. After all, they did capture the legendary Yeti…

'Where is she?' Owen asked the creature, who pulled the hook out of his body, groaning loudly. 'Where's Tosh?'

The big monster's cries echoed through the valley.

'Gwen!' Owen yelled, hoping for support as the creature stood up.

He aimed his weapon at the monster, but he hesitated to shoot again.

There was something about it which seemed…wrong.

Why did it not defend itself?

'Leave this place.' the monster said again, speaking to the trio telepathically as it cradled its wounded shoulder with a mild interest.

'Why?' Gwen asked. 'Tell us why. Give us a reason!'

'Gwen! Don't encourage it!' Owen yelled.

'Evil has been awakened.' the Yeti spoke. 'It will rise from the snow like the Doctor said it would.'

'The Doctor?' Gwen asked.

'LEAVE!' the Yeti roared.

With one final roar the creature frightened them, before a mysterious blizzard blinded them and the monster dug into the snow, leaving only his drops of blood in the snow behind, and the rope and grapple hook he had ripped from his shoulder, as proof he had actually been there.

As they pulled themselves up from the snow, Torchwood checked its surroundings, but there were no signs of the beast. It was gone.

'Evil has been awakened.' Ianto repeated.

'It was here to warn us, Owen.' Gwen spoke, as she put away her weapon. 'And you had to shoot it.'

'No.' Owen said stubborn. 'Something's wrong here. Something's behind all this and that something doesn't want us to know about it.'

'What about Tosh?' Ianto asked. 'She's out there somewhere, probably right in the middle of it...'

'We need to find her.' Owen spoke.

'And fast.' Gwen added.

* * *

What was that sound?

Somewhere in the darkness, something was moving.

Toshiko backed away from the left tunnel, and she fearfully glanced at the corridor to her right. She soundlessly gasped for air as she saw a light at the far end of the tunnel.

She took her first step towards the light and shined her flashlight at the frozen figure she was leaving behind. Then she shined its light at the dark corridor in front of her.

'Oh, god!' she gasped as she saw four eyes gaze back into hers.

She started to run, run, run like the wind.

Two snake-like figures with cold, lifeless eyes had gazed into her eyes; their bodies seemed to be made of a dozen of round, seemingly elegant parts of metal, attached to each other.

Toshiko ran down the corridor, towards the light, and in her mind the eyes of the two metal snakes haunted her. They had been white and cold and without life.

And Toshiko knew they were after her.

Her fast steps trampled the ice beneath her feet. At some points she slipped and her flashlight shined on the walls beside her.

The snakes…

They were part of the walls. They were gliding across the walls as if they were swimming, not crawling.

Toshiko yelled as she tried to outrun them. The metal snakes grabbed her foot and arm and pulled her down to the icy ground.

She struggled and fought to rid herself of the grip of the snakes, but they seemed to be twisted around her in a unbreakable lock.

'Let go of me!' Toshiko cried to the lifeless snakes.

The rumbling appeared again. It was coming for her.

Toshiko knew this.

The snakes had pulled her to the ground with their enormous weight, and as the rumbling approached, Toshiko tried to reach for her gun.

One snake entwined its tail around Toshiko's other arm. As it shined in the light which came from the other end of the tunnel, the snake's tail seemed like a huge, metal bracelet which cut off the blood to Toshiko's hand.

Toshiko saw a silhouette of a man approaching her.

The same figure she saw before trapped within the ice; it was exactly the same.

'Help me!' Toshiko cried. 'Please!'

Both the light and the darkness prevented Toshiko from seeing the figure's face.

It seemed to be raising its arm. Toshiko could barely tell.

The figure touched some buttons on the back of his hand, and suddenly the snakes let go.

Toshiko didn't know why the snakes had released her. She saw how the metal snakes returned to their place in the walls, as if they were part of it.

However, Toshiko could still see their eyes light up in the darkness, and they were watching her.

One snake was still not letting go of Toshiko's foot. The grip had loosened, but the snake would not let go.

Toshiko stood up and tried to shake it off.

'Release her.' A strange, hollow voice spoke and Toshiko realised it was coming from the silhouetted figure. 'Cybermat, you will comply.'

The cybermat finally let go of her foot, and also returned to the walls, but now Toshiko was worried.

'Cyber?' Toshiko asked. 'What do you mean by that?'

The figure did not answer her.

Then Toshiko finally realised who stood in front of her.

She reached for her gun, but with one swift motion by the silhouetted man the gun seemed to be pulled out of her hand by an invisible wire.

A powerful magnet attracted the weapon's metal, and now Toshiko was unarmed.

The silhouetted figure touched the keypad on his wrist again, and the cybermats wrapped themselves around Toshiko's arms. They were so heavy, Toshiko almost found herself on the floor again, but she managed to stand upright nevertheless. The snakes formed a powerful lock around her hands, so she couldn't resist.

Two strong hands were suddenly placed on her shoulder and they lifted her off the ground.

She couldn't walk, because of the weight of the cybermats around her arms, but now she didn't need to anymore.

Her feet were hovering, dangling, above the metal floor as the metal men carried her through the tunnels, away from the light and back into the darkness she had tried to escape.

* * *

'Evil has awakened, he said.' Gwen spoke.

'It has to be asleep before it can wake up.' Owen added.

Owen's naked, freezing fingers were typing away on the small laptop's keyboard as a cold wind howled across the snowy valleys.

Owen searched for information of strange phenomenon or alien sightings around the Himalayas for the past fifty years.

It wasn't easy: neither the Chinese or the Indians keep any sort of record of such activity (at least, as far as they knew), to access UNIT's files they needed Jack's password, and the only plausible thing they could find were some classified files from an American organization called 'Area 51'.

'There we go,' Owen said. 'Nothing much, but it's definitely something.'

'It says it fell down from the skies fifty years ago.' Ianto said, reading the captions of the blurry, black and white photo.

The photo showed a strange ship which descended the white mountains. It seemed like a dot in the distance, if it had not been enhanced and digitally modified by specialists.

'A group of Asian climbers took this picture,' Owen said as he looked up at Ianto.

'They died 24 hours later.'

Gwen nodded and swallowed, as she put her sunglasses ack on.

Owen closed his laptop and put it back in his rucksack.

Prime Minister Harold Saxon had sent them on a mission.

A mission they thought to be a waste of time.

But now they wondered whether he knew of this threat which was buried in the snow somewhere. They weren't told. They weren't informed.

Torchwood was sent there without a reason, without a cause or purpose.

And they wondered: Had the Prime Minister known?

Had he sent them to their doom?

Toshiko was out there somewhere; in danger, dead, or dying.

And so was the monster which warned them not to go further.

They heard his words; but ignored them.

If Jack had taught them a thing or two, this would be one of them.

'If there's evil out there,' Gwen said. 'We'll find it.'

'No doubt about it.' Owen simply said, as he put on his sunglasses as well after he closed his rucksack and put it on his back.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' Owen spoke. 'It's time to save the world.'

'Is it that time already?' Ianto quipped as he followed Owen through the mountains, to the place where the ship had supposedly crashed.


	11. The Metal Men

The men of steel gripped Toshiko's shoulders with their icy hands.

They had taken her to some dark command chamber with malfunctioning lights.

Toshiko was pushed into a freezing chair of ice and metal, and immediately the chair seemed to grow around her. It bound itself around her waist, arms and legs, making Toshiko unable to move. The metal snakes which had tied Toshiko's arms together now let go of her suddenly, leaving her at the mercy of the strange, They merged with the metal, as if they were part of it. They disappeared into the metal of the chair like fish into water, as if they were liquid and not made of heavy steel.

'What do you want from me?' Toshiko asked.

One of the three men who accompanied and carried her to this place moved away from the others. The light flashed: it reflected upon the man's metal suit.

Toshiko noticed his strange walk, uncomfortably and wooden, like its feet were exceptionally heavy.

The figure then turned towards Toshiko, showing its dark, cold and emotionless face.

Toshiko gazed into its hollow eyes.

'We need your heart.' the metal figure spoke with a robotic voice.

Toshiko could see several other Cybermen placing their hands on an icy platform and somehow they were able to connect to the computer and it's mainframe. She could not and did not want to imagine how it worked.

'Why do you need my heart?' Toshiko asked.

She imagined them smiling sadistically behind their iron masks, but then she realised they were not masks.

Toshiko's heart was beating wildly as the Cyberman stretched out its cold, metal hand towards her chest…

* * *

'I've told you about the bad feelings I get at times, right?' Ianto said.

'Yes, you did,' Gwen said, putting on her sunglasses as Owen had to protect her eyes from the sun.

'Well, I'm feeling it now,' Ianto spoke.

They gazed upon a large structure which was sticking out of the snow, a large, metal surface which reflected the sun's light. It seemed to be dug up quite recently, and it didn't seem anything like it had been buried beneath the snow for the last fifty years.

'Terrific,' Owen spoke, putting his sunglasses back on.

His black coat contrasted and clashed the bright, white snow.

They descended the small hill which had obscured the metal surface from their sights before.

Gwen listened if she could hear the sound of the Yeti's roaring through the sound of the howling winds.

'There's a door,' Owen said, pointing at the centre of the metal area. 'See there?'

Ianto hesitated, but nevertheless he was behind Owen every step of the way. His footfalls echoed across the cold, metal plates of the ship's surface, buried within the snow at their feet.

'Brings back memories, doesn't it?' Ianto said.

'Not really,' Gwen said.

Owen activated his flashlight again and shined it upon the entrance of the ship.

'Have you never seen 'the Thing?' Ianto asked.

'No.' Gwen gazed into the dark doorway.

'No,' Owen said. 'Please don't spoil the ending.'

The mountains gazed down upon them as a cold, howling wind touched their dry lips.

Owen was about to enter the dark entrance to the ship when a strange sound emerged from Ianto's rucksack.

Both Gwen and Owen looked surprised as Ianto gazed upon his rucksack for a second, just before he started to frantically open it.

Owen still wished to put his foot on the first step which lead down into the dark, mysterious ship. Gwen and Owen glanced at each other through their sunglasses as Ianto rummaged through his small pack with bare hands.

Ianto revealed a small scanner from his rucksack as his gloves lay in the snow at his feet

Three blue lights were glowing and the object began shrieking and beeping.

'It picked up Tosh's signal,' Ianto explained as he held the scanner in his hands like a sacred object. 'She's in there.'

All eyes were now averted to the dark entrance in front of them.

Neither Owen or Gwen said anything as Ianto closed his backpack and grabbed his gloves from the snow, never letting his eyes drift from the small scanner in his hands.

They merely stepped inside the ship with their guns drawn, and disappeared into the darkness beneath the mountain, ready to face whatever evil which awaited them, in order to find, and save, their friend.

* * *

'Internal scanners show more intruders have entered the ship.' one of the Cybermen said.

There were at least four now, standing in the command chamber, and another one stood in the doorway.

The air inside the chamber was dusty and thick, for oxygen had been deprived of the rooms inside the ship for fifty years. Everything was cold and dark, even as the bright lights in the ceiling blinded them.

Toshiko watched as two Cybermen analyzed a big, grey metal panel, covered in ice.

The buttons had frozen, and were uneasily pushed, yet the computer of the crashed ship slowly woke from its long slumber.

'What is their exact position?' another Cyberman spoke.

His voice sounded muffled and deep, yet perfectly articulated, speaking in a robotic, wooden manner.

'The computer is still rebooting,' another Cybermen spoke, 'Access to the computer's functions are limited.'

'Search for heat-signatures,' the first Cyberman said.

Small, red lights started to shine brightly inside the panels. Some of them flickered and malfunctioned and lit up only once before all life faded away from the small bulb.

'I cannot,' The second Cyberman turned around to face the other.

Toshiko closed her eyes and tried to keep out their strange voices from her head, but it was impossible to ignore.

'Send a squad,' the first Cyberman spoke, 'Send the cybermats. Kill the intruders.'

'No!' Toshiko cried, realising these could be her friends and team-mates, who were looking for her: it had to be them, there was no doubt about it in her mind.

Toshiko watched how the second Cyberman left without even nodding to the first Cyberman, ignoring her pleas for mercy.

Heavy footfalls of metal feet echoed through the dark corridors. Invisible eyes slithered across the metal walls, searching for its designated prey.

'You don't have to do this!' Toshiko yelled at the Cyberman in front of her, 'You don't have to kill them!'

The Cyberman turned around slowly, its silver armour glistened in the rays of light coming from the ceiling. Toshiko now gazed into its cold, lifeless and hollow eyes.

'You are required,' the Cyberman said. 'They are not.'

'Required?' Toshiko asked.

Metal restraints had been placed around her waist. Her coat had been removed.

She felt her back had been placed in a bucket of freezing cold water. She was shivering.

'More prisoners would only cause more chaos,' the Cyberman said. 'We do not want chaos.'

'Of course you don't,' Toshiko whispered.

'We do not have enough soldiers to guard four prisoners,' the Cybermen went on. 'One will suffice.'

Toshiko remembered what Jack had told them about the Cybermen. They were cold, heartless creatures who once were humans; they harvested human brains and organs to be put into a suit of metal.

Death is their greatest fear, and they most certainly value order and equality as their most prime virtues, as well as survival.

As Tosh got lost in thoughts, the Cyberman who had spoken to her turned away from her.

'Wait!' Tosh said, wanting to ask another question, but the answer to that question soon came as the metal restraints of the metal, cold chair were removed and for a second time four hands of steel forcefully pulled her up and dragged her away, without any subtlety whatsoever.

Why was she required?

And Toshiko knew that if these men of steel could laugh diabolically, they would have done it now as they dragged her through the darkness, into a strange, large room with many screens.

* * *

'Tosh, can you hear me?' Ianto spoke, putting his finger on his ear pod. 'Toshiko, are you there?'

The dark corridors seemed endless. It seemed like hope was being sucked from their souls with every step they took.

Owen and Gwen moved professionally from corner to corner with their guns pointed at the shadows, trampling the same ice and snow Toshiko once walked on, some hours before them.

They inhaled the same cold and dusty air as she did once.

They felt like they were breaking into a cemetery.

The fact that there weren't any graves in this darkness only disturbed them even more.

The lights turned on suddenly, bringing a pure, blue light to this seemingly eternal darkness.

All three of them closed their eyes; the sudden light hurt their adjusted eyes.

In this light they could almost see everything in front of them, all the details, all the metal panels in the walls and the ice and snow on the ground, but sometimes they still needed their flashlights.

Gwen and Owen looked at each other and glanced at the weapons they held in their hands.

Ianto's device kept on buzzing in his hands.

'Afraid?' Owen asked Gwen.

Gwen was the first to step into the second corridor, turning the corner and aiming her weapon in front of her.

She breathed again when she saw no signs of any threat in the next corridor.

'No.' she answered.

Something was rumbling in the distance.

They all knew there was something down there. The sudden activation of light had convinced them again of that fact.

'You?' Gwen asked Owen.

'I'm terrified,' he answered.

Their breaths seemed louder than ever before. Smoke came out of their mouths as they breathed out. Ianto's scanner was buzzing loudly, as if Tosh herself was crying for help via the scanner.

Another sound came from the tunnel behind them.

All three of them now glanced over their shoulder in fright.

A second later Gwen swiftly aimed her gaze back at the tunnel she was gazing at before, fearing the sound to be a diversion and a ruse used by the enemy to attack.

She was right.

In the distance of the tunnels she could see two things crawling towards them across the metal floor. Swiftly and gracefully they slid towards them, their smooth, metal hides reflecting the blue lights in the ceiling.

'Owen!' Gwen yelled.

Without hesitating Owen opened fire upon the cybermats which approached them swiftly.

The cybermats evaded the bullets easily.

'Run!' Owen cried, pushing Gwen and Ianto back into the corridor they came from.

The gun fired bullets semi-automatically at the metal snakes. It angered them.

The cybermats opened their mouths as they slithered across the floor and walls, producing a frightening, piercing cry which seemed neither growl or howl.

Gwen glanced over her shoulder and saw a door.

She fired at the snakes when Owen had to reload his weapon.

A third snake seemed to emerge from the walls. Its fangs nearly hit Gwen's arm.

'Ianto!' she yelled, and with one glance and gesture he knew exactly what to do.

Ianto's heart raced almost as fast as he did, as he ran towards the door.

A fourth cybermat slid past Ianto's feet.

A fifth cybermat emerged from the ceiling and pecked at his ear and shoulder.

Gwen and Owen fired at the snakes around them as Ianto ran headfirst into the icy door, hoping to break through the door by force and strength.

It worked.

Ianto entered a total darkness yet again, staggering along into the strange chamber with a wounded shoulder; a gun in one hand and his scanner in the other.

'This way!' he yelled.

The scanner rolled on to the floor as Ianto staggered and slipped on the icy floor. He struggled to get up and keep his arm levelled and straight. His aim had to be perfect.

His gloved finger touched the trigger of his gun as he came to the aid of his friends.

Owen and Gwen fired shot after shot at the attacking cybermats and jumped away as Ianto started firing.

Two snakes were hit and were thrown away by the blast against the walls where they remained lifeless and silent.

Ianto could see five other snakes merge with the wall and disappear into the shadows.

Their metal hides glistened in the light of Ianto's flashlight.

The cries of the cybermats echoed through the chamber.

'Jesus!' Owen yelled.

Ianto was startled, seeing Owen point his weapon at Ianto, and then Gwen as well.

He raised his hand automatically, begging them not to fire with a single gesture.

Then he realised they weren't aiming at him.

Ianto crawled up, looked behind him and aimed his flashlight at the frozen figure in the dark.

Ianto had returned to his nightmares. The nightmares which had tormented him for many months. Day and night.

Darkness now penetrated the one final place of light inside of him as well as the cries of the metal snakes echoed through the large chamber.

The scanner continued on buzzing in the corner and its blue light reflected in the metal wall.

The shadows reached Ianto's heart, and his body started trembling, shaking, as he looked upon the metal man which stood in front of him now.

'Lisa,' Ianto whispered as his nightmare approached him. 'No,' he whispered.

In his mind, a blood red light engulfed him as he returned to Canary Wharf.

Lisa's screams echo through his mind.

'You will become one of us,' the Cyberman spoke.

* * *

Toshiko felt like a bucket of freezing cold water had just been poured all over her back.

Yet the feeling did not go away.

She was pressed against it, tied up next to it, and Toshiko did not dare to look at the object next to her.

'Why are you doing this?' she asked the Cyberman.

In the corner of her eyes she could see a man standing in the shadows.

No, it wasn't a man, it was the echo of a man, the shadow of a man; a ghost.

'We require orders,' the Cyberman spoke; he did not respond to the ghostly apparition in the shadow, because he could not see it.

Toshiko was freezing. She had been pressed backwards against a block of ice it seemed.

Toshiko finally dared to look and saw a ghostly, disturbing sight, a man covered in ice and snow; a Cyberman trapped, frozen, sitting on his metal throne.

'You must defrost him.'

'Defrost him?' Toshiko asked. 'What do you mean?'

The Cyberman would not explain further.

'Our security-force has engaged your friends in combat,' he said to Tosh. 'They will not come to your aid.'

'Don't let him break you,' the ghost in the corner spoke.

Toshiko glanced at the shadows and saw how the ghostly apparition of Jack Harkness spoke to her. It stood there with its arms folded. Its gaze firm, strong and unbreakable.

'Hope is all you have,' Jack Harkness spoke to the darkness.

He didn't look at Toshiko.

He arms were hanging by his side, touching his blue coat, as he gazed aimlessly in front of himself.

'Don't let him take that away from you as well,' he added.

Toshiko swallowed silently and nodded.

'You are right,' Toshiko said to the Cyberman. 'I am alone.'

'Perfect, Tosh,' Jack spoke.

'You have chosen to co-operate?' the Cyberman spoke.

'You give me no choice,' Toshiko answered.

Toshiko had been tied up next to some kind of throne, which stood at the centre of this strange, dark hub.

Many screens had been installed in the round chamber, but none of them worked today.

Toshiko and the frozen Cyberman were bathing in the blue light which was being emitted from small bulbs in the ceiling.

Toshiko never got used to the eternal cold which lingered in the corridors and chambers of the ship.

'Keep them busy,' Jack went on. 'Ask questions, but not too much: they might not like it.'

'Don't you think it's ironic,' Tosh spoke to the Cyberman. 'that with all of your superior technology and cold, metal suits, in the end you still end up needing a heart.'

'We require only your body-heat,' the Cyberman replied cold. 'Nothing more.'

'You need me to defrost your leader, is that it?' Tosh asked.

'Good, Tosh.' the ghostly apparition of Jack said to Tosh. 'Information is your weapon. Gain all that you can. If you get out of here alive, you could use it to your advantage.'

'We need orders.' the Cyberman spoke.

The Cyberman sitting on the throne looked exactly like the Cyberman which stood in front of Toshiko now, only he had a larger cranium.

A larger head, basically.

'You can't think for yourselves, can you?' Toshiko said.

'Don't push it,' Jack spoke. 'Be subtle. You can anger your kidnapper, but if you go too far he might change his mind and kill you nonetheless.'

Toshiko hid her doubts and looked defiantly into the Cyberman's hollow eyes.

'But that's it!' Toshiko suddenly cried. 'You operate on basic orders without your leader's words! You defend your base, kill all intruders! You just follow primary guidelines, '

'We require orders,' the Cyberman spoke, almost like a broken record which repeated the same phrase over and over again.

'You can't think for yourselves,' Toshiko spoke. 'You need him!'

'He is the Cyber Leader,' the Cyberman spoke. 'And by the orders of our homeworld Mondas, he will lead the invasion.'

One of Toshiko's worst fears had now come true.

They were planning to invade the Earth.

As the Cyberman turned around and left the round chamber, leaving Toshiko alone with the frozen Cyber Leader, Toshiko suddenly realised something.

'But I can't defrost him!' Toshiko cried, 'That's impossible!'

The Cyberman did not respond to her cries.

Toshiko gazed into the darkness in the corner of her eyes.

Jack's ghost was gone.

He was never there in the first place, for he was but a memory.

Jack had always been there when she needed him.

He had rescued her, when she had been imprisoned in a dark place before.

A darker, worse place than she was imprisoned in now.

The Cybermen she now faced where cold and brutal, but at least she could face them.

She remembered a time when there were only four walls she could talk to.

Four walls which were her friends; the only things she could touch and feel.

She was cut off from the outside world, left without hope, without life.

Jack had saved her, but he would not save her now.

She cursed herself. Again she had been put in the role of the damsel in distress.

Could she not take care of herself?

Would she always need someone to come to her aid?

She was weak.

The Cybermen knew it.

She knew it.

So the answer, although Toshiko hated it, was 'yes'.

She needed help.

Her friends; her four friends, her team-mates, could not help her now.

She was alone.

A thought occurred to her which seemed so ridiculous and naïve.

Prayer occurred to her, although Toshiko did not believe in God.

But if there was one man she could pray to, if there was one man who she would believe in…

If he could hear her, if he was listening…

She met him only once, one brief moment when he saved her from 'the mermaid'.

She smiled slightly, thinking of her stupidity; at that point she had not seen an alien before.

She thought that pig really was an alien.

Her naivety back then baffled her now.

Jack told her about that man afterwards. He spoke calm and curious as he asked her about how he was like.

And then he explained the things she wanted to know; all the things he was willing to tell her.

How he is there whenever there is trouble, whenever Earth is in danger.

He is always there.

And if he could save the world, then why could he not save her?

Toshiko smiled as she raised her head and gazed at the ceiling.

Hope is all she has.

So why not? Why would she not pray?

'Doctor, if you can hear me? If you're out there, help us…' Toshiko whispered to the darkness, praying not only for herself, but also for her friends who were stranded in the darkness, who would soon be attacked by the Cybermen, 'Help us, please…'

* * *

Gwen fired upon the Cyberman who threatened Ianto.

The bullets ricocheted off his metal suit.

As the computer's systems slowly rebooted the lights in this large chamber finally switched on, revealing two giant engines in the centre of it.

Two other Cybermen appeared wielding the same weapon the first one did.

The weapon's red rays blasted tiny holes into the metal walls of the ship.

Owen dragged Ianto away, into the shadow of one of the engines.

Ianto was freaking out. He was shaking, crying, and screaming at the metal men as Owen grabbed his neck and pulled him out of their range.

'Ianto! Get a grip, lad!' Owen yelled as he fired his gun at the Cybermen.

The red flares hit the engine, and Owen and Ianto crawled underneath the large machine to get to the other side of the chamber, in order to avoid the Cybermen and their guns.

In the shadows beneath the engine they could see the cybermats slithering towards them.

'Owen, where are you?' Gwen yelled.

She had climbed on top of the second engine and kept firing at the Cybermen to divert their attention away from the fleeing Owen and Ianto, whose guns needed to be reloaded.

Gwen ducked to avoid the blasts of the Cybermen's red rays.

Ianto couldn't stop thinking about Lisa, and the aftermath of the Battle of Canary Wharf.

He couldn't stop thinking about how he found her, lying in the wreckage of the incomplete upgrades, metal skeletons and lost brain.

Ianto tried to break free from Owen's grip, but Owen wouldn't let him.

'Ianto, what the hell are you doing?' Owen yelled.

The snakes were approaching them fast.

With one hand Owen gripped Ianto's coat, and in the other hand he tried to aim his gun at the snakes in the shadows.

'IANTO!' he yelled.

Again, the computer managed to activate another part of the ship.

The engines were slowly starting to power up; its soft growl slowly turned into a huge and powerful roar, as all power returned to the ship.

'One of us!' the Cybermen repeated over and over again. 'One of us!'

She was beautiful, she was so beautiful, yet the Cybermen took her and transformed her into something evil, something dark and damaged.

Ianto remembered how he saved her from the debris, from the chaos and disaster.

He saved her, and he took her with him, in secret, into the heart of Torchwood 3.

"Ianto, what are you doing?! Ianto, NO!!' Owen yelled when Ianto fought his way out of his grip. In a fit of uncontrollable rage he stormed at the three Cybermen, intending to kill them.

Intending to wreak havoc upon them as he finally got his revenge.

The silent Ianto, the always loyal Ianto, the rational and clever Ianto, now ran towards the Cybermen like a mindless beast, with only vengeance on his mind.

The Cybermen were too focused on Gwen when Ianto attacked, so they didn't see him coming.

It was too irrational, too stupid of a move for anyone to make, suicidal and dangerous.

The Cybermen had never expected this attack, so they were caught completely off guard when Ianto charged them headfirst, without any weapons or strategy.

'You killed her!' he yelled at the Cybermen. 'It was you!'

He was angry.

He was so mad.

He had betrayed his team to save the life of his love.

He had almost killed them.

He would have died for her.

That monster.

That Cyberwoman, that evil spawn from hell.

That wasn't Lisa.

She died, that day at the Battle of Canary Wharf.

They killed her and put something else in her place.

The Cybermen were pushed to the ground as Ianto jumped them.

One of them managed to remain upright and he grabbed Ianto and pushed him aside.

Ianto fell to the ground beside a large, metal rifle.

He instinctively grabbed for the rifle, aimed and fired at the Cybermen.

With two clean shots he took down two of them, but the third fired back.

The weapons seemed to be deadly to their own masters.

Ianto quickly got to his feet and evaded the Cyberman shot.

Gwen saw what was going on and fired at the Cybermen to support Ianto.

The next shot of the Cyberman missed Ianto, but it hit the ground.

The small blast both pushed Ianto and startled him, causing him to fall behind the large, roaring engine.

As Ianto analyzed his strange weapon, the Cyberman followed him.

'Come on then,' Ianto whispered to himself and the shadow which haunted him.

For there was a promise he made to Lisa.

He'd told her it would all be okay.

He spoke to her as the last drops of her life and her real personality faded away, leaving room for the Cyberwoman to invade her mind, and he told her he would save her.

And he broke his promise.

Lisa is dead.

Now he's made another promise.

He promised he would save Toshiko.

Again someone close to him was captured by the Cybermen.

Again he made a promise he couldn't live up to fulfilling.

But this time he vowed to do it right.

This time he would keep his promise.

He would stand up to his nightmare and win.

Toshiko will not die like Lisa did.

She will live.

'Come on, then,' Ianto said softly to the Cyberman who approached him.

Bathed in blue light, the Cyberman walked closer and closer. 'Come and get me.'

The Cybermen raised his arm and weapon.

'Ianto!' Gwen yelled.

Ianto pushed the back of the rifle into the Cyberman's face.

He struggled and fought the powerful, metal man seemingly in vain, but Ianto prepared a powerful kick which would launch the Cyberman straight into the heart of the engine.

The engine roared as it devoured the metal man, and Ianto had emerged victorious from the fight with his worst nightmare.

All of a sudden Owen jumped from under the engine, screaming his lungs out as he furiously tried to shake off the cybermats.

The metal snakes had attached themselves to his body with their metal fangs.

Owen's entire body was covered with slithering metal.

His head was turning red as he approached Ianto, who grabbed his weapon and started firing at the metal snakes.

The power of the impact pushed Owen on to the floor, but the desired effect had been achieved.

Most of the snakes let go and now tried to attack Ianto, but after some fast motions of his finger and a subsequent swift series of blinding red flashes, the snakes dropped into many, tiny little bits on the floor.

'Now that was mental,' Owen spoke, gasping for breath as he looked upon a similar exhausted Ianto with a content smile upon his face.

* * *

The cold was beginning to become unbearable.

Toshiko was starting to lose hope, as she waited for a rescue that would never come.

She was wrong.

Suddenly it felt like the entire ship was trembling.

Strange scratches were heard above her, and then a loud pounding, like someone was trying to punch through the walls.

She was wrong again: in fact, someone was trying to punch through the ceiling.

The ceiling of the dark chamber was ripped open and bright sunlight blinded her eyes.

'Alert! Alert!' one of the Cybermen yelled, but it was already too late.

The Yeti had climbed inside the ship and with one punch it destroyed the Cyber Leader and freed Toshiko of her icy restraints.

The Cybermen fired their red bolts upon the creature, but it seemed not to effect the Yeti in any way. It hurt him, but it did not kill him.

The creature roared as it attacked its attackers and Toshiko ran for cover, not sure whether she should follow her mysterious, monstrous saviour…

A Cyberman grabbed her arm and Toshiko tried to fight him off.

The Yeti saw her troubles and decided to help her, even as it was fighting five Cybermen off itself at the same time.

With one motion of his huge claw the Cyberman was reduced to metal pieces and white goo.

The Yeti's back scraped across the low ceiling, for the tall monster did not exactly fit inside.

Cybermen ships had not been designed for his kind of species.

'Kill it!' the Cybermen exclaimed together like a choir. 'Kill it!'

The Yeti responded to their song with a monstrous, terrifying roar, and it again annihilated a Cybermen with a violent thrust with his claw.

The opening, through which the Yeti had entered the Cybermen's ship, was collapsing.

Snow was beginning to pour down on to the metal floor, and rocks fell down as well.

The Yeti turned around to clear the opening, but when he did so the Cybermen captured Toshiko again.

Toshiko fought and struggled to get out of their iron grip.

She punched one of the Cybermen's shoulder with a flat hand out of desperation, but then the Cybermen suddenly cried out in pain, and his metal suit started smoking.

Toshiko looked at her hand as the Cybermen let her go.

She noticed she was wearing her late mother's golden ring.

Was it their Achilles heel, Toshiko wondered? Could their fatal weakness be in fact, gold?

Toshiko attacked her next metal attacker by scraping her gold ring into its metal face.

The Cyberman backed away in horror and pain as his face started smoking.

Before she knew it, Toshiko was lifted off her feet and felt a cold breeze touch her face.

Toshiko was outside again, out of the dark ship and she enjoyed the sun's rays as it touched her skin.

Her prayers had been answered.

* * *

The Cybermen regrouped and amassed in the not-so dark chamber where Toshiko and the Yeti had escaped.

The remains of their leader lay in front of their feet, and without hesitation they planned for the next step in their plan.

Although unexpected and unwanted for, this new development gave the Cybermen exactly what they wanted.

The Cybermen had already chosen their new leader.

They formed a circle around him as the download began, and all information and command subroutines were put into his mind.

The circle of Cybermen was broken as the old Cyber Leader's crown (which survived the Yeti's attack) was placed on top of his metal head.

It fit perfectly.

The coronation of a new Cyber Leader was complete.

'I am the new Cyber Leader,' the Cyberman spoke. 'Heed my words.'

His voice echoed through the small room.

The Cyber Leader's face had been scarred by Toshiko's gold ring.

He had been the one who captured Toshiko.

He had been the one who answered her questions.

And now he was the leader of the Cybermen.

He would lead the attack on Earth.

The Cyber Leader turned around and entered the command chamber.

The computer's screens showed that it had almost completely rebooted itself, for it was 79 complete.

'Our external sensors showed a human settlement nearby,' the Cyber Leader spoke. 'I order you to attack the settlement and recruit the humans into Cybermen, for are numbers are few, and they are many.'

He turned around again to face his legion.

'We shall turn them into us.' the Cyber Leader went on. 'We shall make their soldiers fight for us.'

'The invasion of Earth will go as planned.' a Cyberman spoke. 'Their walls of snow and defences of ice will not stop us.'

'We will turn this planet into a new Mondas,' the Cyber Leader spoke. 'This will be our capital from which we will conquer the universe. This day will mark the first day of a new era. The beginning of a new age in which Cybermen rule the universe.'

The Cyber Leader walked through his men and stopped as he gazed upon the hole in the ship's roof.

'No-one can stop us.' he spoke. 'Not even the Doctor.'


	12. The Corpse in the Kitchen

_#The beat goes on…_

_.. the beat goes on#_

The Master carried the tourists' bags up the stairwell, setting his feet down to this insane rhythm.

The music seemed to echo from out one of the rooms.

The Master hated it.

_#Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain#_

_#La di da de di#_

_#La di da de dai#_

As Sonny and Cher sang into their ears, the Master dragged the heavy suitcase up several staircases and towards the tourist's room and he threw one small bag on to his back.

The rope of the bag scratched his neck.

He kept pushing and pulling and dragging the heavy suitcase from door to door, cursing the tourists who broke the suitcase's little wheels (which were supposed to make the transportation of the heavy suitcase a lot easier).

"You'll die…" the Master muttered to himself, straining his hands as he dragged the suitcase through the dark corridor where Bill had confronted the Master mere moments ago.

His hands and neck were slowly turning awfully red…

"You'll all die…" he whispered again, without ever opening his clenched jaws.

"What?" the American woman asked him, mishearing his words.

"Nothing," the Master spoke.

He was thankful the American couple hadn't spotted the body beneath the reception desk, but to make sure no-one else would the Master knew he had to get back there, pronto.

The Master looked at the fat couple (who seemed just a tad too nice) and he noticed the big belt around the big man's big waist, before his eyes glanced at the thick layer of lip-gloss on top of the thick layer of purple lipstick on the big woman's thick lips.

"Right!" the Master exclaimed, putting down the bags and suitcases and gasping for breath. "This is your room!"

He put his sweaty hands together and smiled politely, yet in his mind he hoped the happy American couple would fall under their own suitcases and be crushed to death, slowly.

He scratched his head and wiped the drops of sweat off his forehead, before realising the couple was watching him closely.

"I hope you have a pleasant stay at the…uhm…_Atreus_-hotel, was it?" the Master spoke.

Quickly he showed his big smile to them again as he gazed happily into their eyes.

The smile was starting to hurt his cheeks and jaw; even his teeth were starting to hurt.

Then, after noticing the woman's scared eyes, the Master realised he was freaking her out, so he closed his mouth.

"Is there anything else you may require?" the Master then asked, like a perfect butler. "Sir?"

He had almost forgotten that last bit.

After saying it, the Master immediately knew he hated saying it.

"No, thank you," the American man spoke. "We're quite fine. We can carry our luggage ourselves now."

"Oh, really, sir?" the Master spoke snide. "Are you sure, sir? I could carry them inside for you, sir? It wouldn't be much trouble, sir!"

The Master felt another drop of sweat descend down his forehead, crawling down towards his eyebrows.

"No, that won't be necessary," the tourist spoke uncomfortably.

The man didn't know what to do with himself as he gazed freakishly into the Master's eyes.

He hesitated, but then he shook his head, realising what he had forgotten

He then pressed some money into the Master's hand and quickly turned to open the door.

The Master smiled still, as he watched the man enter his room. He gracefully accepted the guests' tip, although in his mind he pictured himself ripping the money to shreds.

In fact, that was just what he planned to do the moment they'd close the door.

"Are you all right?" the woman spoke, hesitating to address this eccentric manager. "You look like you could use an aspirin."

"I'm fine," the Master spoke. "Thank you."

The wet and cold touch of sweat on his forehead was really beginning to bug the crap out of him.

He wanted to wipe it away with his sleeve, but he wouldn't do it whilst they were watching him, so he waited.

"All right," the woman spoke uncomfortably. "Goodbye."

"Have a nice day," the Master spoke like a perfect sycophant.

The doors closed and the Master's smile turned into a vicious grimace.

He put the money in his pocket and left, passing the room where the music was pounding through the walls…

_#The beat goes on, the beat goes on#_

* * *

The Master gracefully ran down the staircase and into the beautiful, wooden reception.

His black shoes touched the red carpet, and his eyes ignored the lobby's fake plants.

He had to smile to another guest who had suddenly appeared around the corner.

"Good day," the Master spoke happily to the stranger, but in his mind he cursed him.

"Why are there so many people in this godforsaken, fucked up, desolate place," the Master wondered to himself. "…in this lousy, stinking hotel?"

The stench of the humans covered everything.

"Why do they have to be everywhere?"

He walked around the reception's desk to discover an empty space where an empty space wasn't supposed to be.

"What?" the Master muttered.

Humans were everywhere, except beneath the desk: Bill's body was gone.

Only a small stain of blood was left in the space beneath the desk where Bill had been curled up in by the Master's hands.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!" he yelled as his voice gained in strength.

The lobby was empty.

The Master searched for traces of blood, but the only blood he could find was by the stairs and beneath the desk.

Where could it be? No dead body moves itself! It was moved!

Moved to where, and by whom?

These logical questions popped up inside his mind as the Master finally did gaze at every detail in this wretched, dark hotel.

There was one possible suspect; one definite witness.

Both were the same, and the Master knew her name…

Where could she be?

"Oh, Dina?" the Master sang with a psychotic look in his eyes as he walked around the reception's desk.

She could ruin everything.

His escape. His plan.

One phone-call could turn everything upside down, and the Master would have to start running again.

With his sore fingers he tapped a familiar motif on the wooden reception's desk.

The Master was the only one who could hear the sound of drums echo in the distance.

"Dina, Dina, Dina, Dina?" he sang.

The front door would have been too easy; if Dianna wanted to go to the police she could have called them, not move the body!

He smelled the air, subtly; without looking ridiculous.

His eyes started to shine, yet at the same time, a shadow fell across his face as the drums came closer and closer. "Oh, you filthy, little thief…"

After he touched his sore neck, the Master picked up his graceful pace, looking around him to see if there were any witnesses.

"Dianna!" he yelled.

* * *

Dianna didn't hear him.

She was dragging the lifeless, huge corpse of Bill the manager across the floor of the diner.

She dropped one of his arms so she could easily open a small wooden handle which kept her from entering the kitchen.

She pulled at Bill's big arms to drag him across the white, neat tiles, only to smear those tiles in dark, red and dirty blood.

When the corpse was in the centre of the kitchen, she let go and left it there.

She had to focus all of her attention at searching for the items she needed.

"All right," Dianna said to herself, blowing away a strand of her dark blonde hair out of her face.

"Hatchet. I need a hatchet."

She did not hear the Master's violent pace.

She did not see him dance from tile to tile, corner to corner as he searched for his prey.

He straightened his back as his eyes noticed the trail of blood, leading straight to Dianna.

Dianna saw a set of beautiful, nearly never used knives standing next to the stove, but they weren't what she was looking for.

"Big! I need big!" she muttered to herself.

"Size doesn't matter," the Master quipped, and Dina quickly turned around.

He was leaning with both hands on the walls beside him, blocking her way out of the kitchen as he stood above the manager's dead body.

"At least, that's what they want you to believe. Personally, I love my weapons big and strong, to wipe out my enemies in one single burst. To hit them where it hurts the most. You do understand me now, don't you?"

Dianna did understand him, but had no idea what he was talking about.

"Now, my question is…" the Master spoke. "Are you my enemy?"

Dianna couldn't help but gaze upon the manager's corpse.

"I know what you're thinking," the Master spoke. "What did dear old Bill ever do to offend me? Why did dear old Bill have to die?"

"I wasn't thinking that," Dianna spoke.

Her hands were trembling, but she managed to hide it from the Master, along with her fear.

"Of course, you aren't," the Master spoke. "No-one cares why they kill someone. It's not until they themselves are targets of their crimes that they pay attention to their murderer's motivations, dreams, desires and nightmares."

The Master gazed into Dianna's eyes; Dianna blinked, the Master never did.

"Bill was my enemy, and he's dead now." The Master spoke. "Does that frighten you?"

Dianna hesitated to answer his question.

She gazed at all possible exits, knowing that there was only one way out.

Sunlight crept through a small window, into the kitchen, and it blinded Dianna whenever she leaned forward.

So she leaned backwards, placing her back against the cold, white, neatly tiled wall.

"Yes," she answered.

"Fear," the Master spoke. "Fear, is the right answer."

He took one of the knives from the set Dianna was admiring before, and he stepped across Bill's body towards Dina.

Her hands were trembling now and she couldn't hide it any longer, along with her fears.

"Please, don't kill me!" Dianna spoke. "I was only trying to help!"

The drums stopped.

The Master hesitated, before he laughed.

"You were trying to help me?" he asked. "You stole my corpse…"

"I wanted to cut it into pieces…" Dianna explained.

"Bill was mine…" the Master said.

"I needed a hatchet," Dianna went on. "That's all I needed. A hatchet."

"You stole my kill!"

The drums appeared again, and it hurt the Master's head.

It was like a pair of invisible restraints were bound across the Master's chest.

He could not breathe, or move the knife in his hands.

"Why on Earth would you want to help me?" the Master asked.

Dianna straightened her back; bright sunlight hit his face and she was blinded for a second.

"You helped me," Dianna answered. "You drove away Adam. I realise now that was the greatest thing anyone's ever done for me since years. I felt like I owed you…"

"So you –what?- decided to help me cover up my murder?" the Master asked. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"

He laughed at her as he played with the knife in his hands.

He rotated the blade with his fingers; whenever the flat side hit the sunlight, it reflected its rays into Dianna's face.

Dianna closed her eyes again as the sunlight hit her face.

"You saved my life," Dianna spoke. "I know this sounds ridiculous, but without you, I would've still be stuck in that hell with Adam, and I'd never be done playing his whore, until he got tired of me and got rid of me!

"He didn't care for me. He never did, but you –a total stranger- stepped into my life and helped me move on, without ever asking anything in return. So I thought, this is how I could repay you...I could help you…"

"My heart bleeds for you, my dear…" the Master said, placing his left hand on his chest. "But there's one thing you haven't taken into account."

In his eyes a vicious light seemed to shine.

Even as he stood in the bright light a shadow seemed to cover his face.

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" the Master yelled.

A deadly silence followed as the Master gazed violently at Dianna.

His fingers kept rotating the deadly blade of the clean knife within his hands.

"Are you going to kill me?" Dianna finally dared to ask.

She purposely ignored the knife within his right hand, and she gazed bravely, yet trembling, into the Master's eyes.

He finally blinked, realising that final question had been asked before.

Then the Master smiled.

Bill's corpse started to stink.

Its foul stench spread through the kitchen quicker than fire would.

The Master gazed at Dianna with an unfair plan unfolding in his mind.

"No," the Master answered. "I will not kill you. I've got a much better role for you."

He laughed diabolically.

"Oh, I love saying that!" the Master exclaimed. "You want to know your role in my big evil scheme? Do you? Come on! Ask me!"

"What?" Dianna spoke confused.

"You're my scapegoat," the Master spoke viciously, and he was enjoying every second of it.

"You're Bill's murderer! How fantastic is that?!"

He couldn't stop laughing.

"Don't you get it, love? I'm framing you for murder!"

Dianna gazed at the floor with hollow eyes, gobsmacked, speechless and confused.

Her good deed had been punished, instead of rewarded.

And the Master just kept on laughing.

Then Dianna realised her fingerprints were all over Bill's corpse.

Her many encounters with the police flashed in front of her eyes that moment, and she started to cry.

"But why?" she asked the Master. "I just wanted to return the favour! I wanted to help! I wanted to help!"

"Oh, my dear…" the Master said as he walked towards her and leaned forward.

He touched her cheek gently and almost lovingly with his hand, and she stood frozen with her back against the wall as he was brushing her beautiful, bruised face in a loving gesture.

"You did help, dear," the Master whispered. "Trust me, you did…"

He smiled again as an evil gleam shined in his eyes.

"Goodbye,"

The Master sped away, leaving Dianna alone in the kitchen with her own tears, the corpse of the manager, her fingerprints and the knives…

* * *

He was dancing all the way through the hall, and up the large staircases, towards his room.

He even gladly greeted several guests who crossed his path, with a big, exaggerated grin on his face.

He approached his room and glanced around him before he opened it and stepped inside.

"God, that was great," the Master exclaimed as he shut the door behind him.

He leaned with his back against the wooden door as he closed his eyes and groaned joyously.

Then he gazed upon the red bed where his wife was sleeping.

"You should've seen her, Lucy," the Master said to the sleeping beauty. "Trembling in front of me, like she should, like everyone should."

His eyes turned somehow absent as he mused and muttered to himself, gazing at the window.

His mouth widened into a big smile.

"How's the wound, by the way?" the Master feigned interest.

He squinted his eyes and pouted his lips, before he gazed at beautiful, sleeping Lucy.

He still felt that same adrenaline, that rush of murder, run through his veins, and he cherished every second of it.

He hummed to himself the same stupid song which was haunting him ever since he heard it.

Fucking _Sonny and Cher_.

He grabbed his old black jacket and put it on.

Somehow he felt safer wearing it, even though it was the jacket he wore the day he died.

"No, my dear, she won't be calling the police anytime soon," the Master said. "Not until she has cleaned the blood off of the kitchen floor, anyway."

He smiled, yet his optimistic mood vanished just as his thumb touched his mouth.

"We should definitely leave," the Master spoke to the beauty who didn't hear a word he was saying. "Definitely. One phone-call could send handsome Captain Jack our way. No, we can't take that risk…"

The Master sighed.

"WAKE UP!" he yelled at Lucy whilst he adjusted the sleeves of his black jacket.

"WE MUST GO! NOW!"

The Master took a deep breath as he gazed upon himself in a mirror.

"No more Bill the manager," he said. "No more blackmailing. No more games. It's time to get serious,"

Lucy laughed.

Her fragile hand slipped off the red sheets and she left it hanging off the edge of the big bed.

Her hand was pale; her wedding ring reflected the bright sunlight which entered through the windows and curtains.

"What?" the Master asked, but Lucy wouldn't say more.

She kept on laughing, and the Master feared he was looking ridiculous.

He nervously examined his appearance in the mirror again.

"Why are you laughing?" the Master asked.

Lucy sighed, and it sounded like she was gasping out her final breaths.

"I can't move," she whispered. "I can't even lift my hand. Look!"

She tried to raise her hand, but it only trembled and shivered, but did nothing.

Lucy laughed, but in fact she was crying.

"I really can't," she whispered.

"You must," the Master spoke viciously. "We're leaving, don't you get that?"

"I'm so sorry," Lucy spoke with watery eyes filled with unconditional love.

"I'm not staying in this dump any longer! You hear me? So come on!"

Lucy was laughing again, creepily, as she sobbed and cried and tears touched her pillow.

"Help me…" Lucy cried. "Please…"

The Master's head was throbbing.

His fist was trembling.

One of his hearts was racing, the other was perfectly calm.

The Master clenched his teeth together, before he kicked the wooden cabinet and tore down the curtains with his bare hands.

"Harry…" Lucy whispered.

He grabbed the lamp and smashed it against the cabinet, over and over again.

"Master…"

He lifted the chair and threw it against the wall. It's pieces he kicked and trampled with his black shoes.

Then he turned around to gaze at Lucy, remaining perfectly still as he approached the bed.

"Fine," the Master spoke. "Stay. Die. I don't care."

"No!" Lucy cried as the Master left the room. "Stay with me! Master, please! Please, stay!"

He slammed the door shut, but its heavy sound drowned in the vast orchestra of the drums, which pounded and pounded the Master's mind, keeping him from murdering his wife, or simply abandoning her altogether.

He roared, cried and yelled as he stampeded through the corridor.

"I AM IN HELL!" the Master yelled, and that moment he wished he was never resurrected by Lucy Saxon.

At that moment, for the first time in his life, he wished he was dead.

* * *

"Right!" he yelled. "This ends here!"

A cold breeze was blowing in his face.

He spread his arms wide and gazed at the sky with a vicious fury.

"I know you're up there!" he cried. "I know you can hear me!"

The world lay at his feet.

The smell of the sea lingered in the blue, cloudless air.

The sun shone brightly upon the lonely Time Lord standing on the roof of the hotel.

"You have your TARDIS!" the Master yelled. "And I am stuck in my own private little hell!

"Laugh all you want, Doctor! Laugh, for you will never laugh again!"

He wished he could've painted this blue sky red.

He wished he could've kicked the old, weak Doctor down to the ground one final time.

Oh, that had felt so good.

"I don't deserve this!" the Master yelled. "I AM A TIME LORD!

"I am a being of power and grandeur! I AM SUPERIOR!

"We both are, Doctor! We, the Last of the Time Lords! The heirs of Rassilon!

"I don't belong here! In this…in this cage…in this HELL!!"

The mighty wind blew at his chest, as if it was trying to blow the Master off the roof.

Seagulls were singing their songs in the distance and they avoided the weird, yelling man who stood on the roof of the hotel.

"You have your freedom, Doctor! And what have I? NOTHING!

"No TARDIS! No power! No freedom!

"I am stuck here on your precious world, hunted like a dog, treated like a slave, imprisoned like a rat!

The blue sky did not answer him.

The wind remained powerful, yet silent.

Only the sun was there to listen to his words.

"Is that your justice, Doctor? Is it?

"Is it my punishment? Well, tough! 'Cause I'm going to find a way to beat it!

"I will beat the drums! I will get my freedom! I will get off this wretched planet, even if it means killing every single one of these stinking apes!!

"I mean it! This Time Lord curse will not hold me back! It will not defeat me!

"You have not seen the last of me, Doctor! For I am THE MASTER!!"

He stretched his arms again, even wider, as he gazed defiantly up at the sky, tauntingly, daringly, as if he were challenging the Doctor to stop him.

In his mind the drums stayed absent, but instead he imagined an entire orchestra playing just for him.

They praised him, and if the Master would have been a humble man, he would've bowed before his invisible fans.

But he didn't.

He returned downstairs with his mind cleared and a single destination firmly imprinted in his mind: a fixed point in the distance of time and space he alone could feel coming closer and closer as the Earth spun faster and faster beneath his feet.

* * *

He opened Bill's office and threw everything he could lay his hands on aside.

Books were shoved aside, plants and cupboards were pushed out of his way.

Cabinets were emptied and even carved, wooden elephants, Bill's cheaply bought little statues, were carelessly thrown on to the ground.

Paperwork was flying through the air as the Master searched the drawers of the cupboards and desk.

A remote-control was thrown aside, and when it fell to the ground a button was accidentally pushed and the television was turned on.

"…_little white creatures in the streets, not to mention the invasion of the metal men …,"_ a man on the television spoke.

His white lab-coat gave away his position as a scientist.

He spoke into many microphones as he sat behind a large desk; he together with his colleagues.

"_We needn't even mention the mysterious Toclafane! Then there's also the increase of comet activity in the solar system, the disappearance of the bees in North America, the sighting of the Titanic flying over Buckingham Palace! But I am sure this is all connected somehow._

"_Earth has been drawing attention to itself, and now aliens are starting to notice us. They are out there. Aliens are really out there…"_

The Master chuckled, overhearing the reporter's words, as he was searching Bill's desk.

"_We should__ keep our eyes fixed at the skies. Earth should gather all of its scientists and contact them! Discover the galaxy! We are not alone, ladies and gentlemen!_

_That is why feel 'the Guinevere II project' should be given a green light! Mars is only our first step into the huge unknown we call the universe. Our first step into a much bigger world! A bigger universe!"_

The audience started clapping as the scientist finished.

Another news-reader continued as the footage of the press-conference ended:

"_Although Acting Prime Minister Quentin hasn't given an official statement yet on the project's future,__ he has stated, and I quote: ' it is prudent the country should look inwards, not upwards as these scientists would have us believe. We must solve the problems on Earth, before we should look at the skies.'_

_Secretary of Defence Gerald Reinhardt supports the Acting Prime Minister's viewpoint on the subject.."_

"Reinhardt!" the Master yelled as he looked up at the screen. "You've got to be kidding! Reinhardt as Secretary of Defence? Idiots!"

The Master opened the lowest drawer of Bill's desk and found a small, black pistol hidden inside a black, empty folder.

"Ah…" the Master mused. "Six bullets. Light. Handy."

He stretched his arm and aimed the pistol at Secretary Reinhardt on the television screen.

"Not my preferred weapon of choice, but it'll have to do, for the time being."

"_We're experiencing enough problems as it is, with the economy going downhill…"_ Reinhardt spoke on the television_. "We can't afford sending this space-craft into space. That money would be better spent in Defence, which has been suffering from some serious financial setbacks ever since the disappearance of Prime Minister Saxon 6 months ago."_

The Master smiled.

"You!"

The Master nearly got a heart-attack; for a moment there he thought Bill had come back from the dead.

Instead, dear Dianna stood in the doorway of the destroyed office, with an enraged look in her red, wet eyes.

"Miss Psycho Killer!" the Master exclaimed. "HAHA! How lovely to see you again! Have you disposed of the corpse yet?"

"You bastard…"

"Oh, now…" the Master spoke as he looked at her with feigned sympathy and pouted lips. "No need to be rude now, is there?"

"Why'd you do it?" Dianna asked. "I offered my assistance and you shoved it in my face!"

"Are we going down this road again?" the Master asked annoyed as he carefully manoeuvred through the smashed cabinet's debris.

"You framed me!" Dianna cried.

"And I was loving every second of it, my dear!" the Master spoke.

Dianna's lower lip was trembling, before she closed her eyes.

"I honestly thought you cared! I actually did!"

"Stupid girl," the Master spoke. "Have you not noticed the world which is happening around you? Nobody cares!" the Master spoke as he walked across the ruins of Bill's office.

Paperwork, pens and pencils were crushed beneath his black shoes as he played with Bill's black pistol in his hands.

"I was only using you to get to beloved Bill…" the Master spoke. "I could've blackmailed him, if his wife hadn't left him…"

"And if Bill hadn't recognised my face on the news…"

The Master did not say that last bit out loud.

"So you killed him?" Dianna asked.

"People die all the time, my dear." the Master subtly reached for the fallen remote control and turned off the television before his face would pop up again.

"Some people have heart-attacks, some have car-accidents, some fall down stairs…"

The Master was smiling diabolically for more than a second before he continued.

"Did you know that at least 100 people choke to death because they swallowed a ballpoint pen, every year?" the Master spoke. "Now that's one of the biggest mysteries of life. How stupid humans can be!"

"You're human!" Dianna spoke.

The Master smiled and remained mysteriously silent.

Dianna looked at him strangely and very much confused by his strange behaviour.

"Excuse me? Can I get some service?" a voice suddenly asked.

Dianna and the Master turned to see who was standing in the doorway of Bill's office.

"I've been waiting by the desk for at least fifteen minutes, and I'm not going to wait any longer!"

Both Dianna and the Master didn't really know what to think of the monster who stood in the doorway right now.

Half man, half woman, half giant, and it was wearing a strange, giant black wig on her head (was it a _her_? The Master couldn't tell) and very thick, dark lipstick, which was the same colour of her thick mascara and long nails.

"We are not done!" Dianna whispered, but the Master ignored her.

"Hello!" the Master exclaimed and he immediately approached the guest who stood in the doorway. "I'm so sorry if I kept you waiting! How can I help you?"

The tall, black woman gazed at the messy office inside, and covered her mouth with her hand.

"What the hell happened in here? Was it an earthquake? I didn't feel anything!"

"Neither did I," the Master spoke.

His eyes seemed to analyze her, but at the same time he couldn't look at her for very long.

It was like he was disturbed by her masculine face and freakishly proportions, but at the same time he covered it all up with his wide grin.

"You see, it wasn't an earthquake." the Master spoke.

Dianna tried to seem calm and nonchalant as she placed her feet inbetween the shards of cabinet.

She accidentally broke a pen as she stood on it with her heels.

"Actually, we were mugged!" the Master spoke slightly amused, but feigning sadness.

"Mugged?" the tall black woman asked. "No way. Did you call the police?"

"Yes, we did." the Master spoke and he put his hands together. "They're on their way. I'm sorry if I kept you waiting."

Dianna was shocked to see the Master's mask; he seemed genuinely concerned and kind, yet there was this sort of arrogance about him which clearly ruined his act.

But she knew the Master did not care.

"Don't be sorry," the tall black woman asked. "I understand. This is terrible."

The Master glanced at the tall woman's extravagant outfit.

"I know," he spoke.

"This is not over!" Dianna whispered angrily into the Master's ear when the tall woman wasn't looking. "I am stuck with a dead body in the kitchen, and you're going to help me get rid of it!"

"Dream on, sugar," the Master whispered back to her with an evil grin full of teeth. "He's all yours now!"

"I've been wanting to complain about some things for quite some time now," the tall black woman continued, believing the Master to be the manager of this hotel.

The Master glanced at her unnaturally big hands and bony fingers.

In his mind he pictured a freak show, and a rotten tomato in his hand, ready to be thrown…

"But I don't know if this is the right time for this…"

"Just get it over with and tell me," the Master spoke annoyed, yet his kind face remained unaltered. "Come on, don't be shy!"

Dianna stood at the Master's side, uneasily and nervously as she watched how his right hand clutched the small gun in his pocket.

"Well, I've been meaning to say something about the water…the showers, the tap…nothing's working in my suite and I've been promised before by Delilah that it would be fixed! Where is Delilah, by the way?"

"She and Bill have gone away for the weekend," the Master replied swiftly. "And they left me in charge."

"So I can trust you to fix it?" the woman asked.

"Certainly," the Master lied.

"And what about the elevator?" the tall woman continued.

"Oh, you're so right, miss…?"

"Miss Greyson, Nikki Greyson,"the tall woman answered.

"Miss Greyson…" the Master repeated uncomfortably. "I'll get a man in straight away!"

He lied again without blinking or hesitating once.

"Anything else?" the Master asked, subtly pushing miss Greyson back into the hallway using only fear and intimidation as his weapons.

"Yes, actually," Nikki went on. "There are two dogs in the backyard, and they're right below my window. They haven't stopped barking since last night!"

The Master was confused.

"I didn't hear anything!" he spoke.

"Then you have to be deaf, because they're loud and dangerous! And I demand that you do something about it!"

"Please?" the Master said with a fake big smile on his face.

"Please?" Nikki asked as she ducked to fit her head through the opening of the door.

"Consider it done," the Master spoke and he shut the door.

He smiled at the shadows before he turned around to face Dianna.

"Two barking dogs," the Master spoke. "One dead body…"

Dianna didn't understand him.

"Two hungry dogs…" the Master continued and his eyes started to sparkle. "One dead mound of flesh…"

Dianna gasped as she solved his little riddle.


End file.
